Motivation
by Hams
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy working at the Ministry in close proximity. There's something unsettling going on, but Harry can't quite figure it out. Rated M for Mystery, Department of, intense sexual tension, and themes of guilt and worth. Complete!
1. Almost

The Ministry lift was far too small.

Harry studied the lift buttons and then the pattern of the carpet very carefully, unsure if he wanted to make small talk with Malfoy who was occupying the opposite side of the lift. He frowned. There were events of mutual life-saving between them but that was years ago and Harry wasn't sure, to be completely honest with himself, what he thought about Malfoy anymore. They did work in the same building, he knew that much, and that was new.

Harry had caught glimpses of that pale blonde head weaving in and out of the crowds flooing in in the morning and of him eating lunch alone in the cafeteria, but hadn't been this physically close to him since they were schoolboys. The idea of them exchanging words now made his mouth dry; Harry knew nothing about him. If he was still an obnoxious prat. What he had been up to after the war. If he still lived at the Manor. Even if his parents were alive.

Harry had stopped keeping track of the trials after the war. The lists of Kissed Death Eaters had made headlines every day and made him sick to his stomach. Harry stopped reading the papers. He stopped going to the memorials, despite Hermione's chiding. The guilt still knotted deep and keen in his stomach and wrenched at his heart afresh, waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with the image of Sirius disappearing behind the veil, sitting at Weasley family dinners forced to stare at the empty chair across from him at the table.

Everybody had lost something. He had no idea what Draco Malfoy had lost.

The idea of ever being _stuck_ in a stalled lift together with Malfoy made him even more uncomfortable. He bit the inside of his lip and prayed to Merlin it wouldn't happen- not today.

A sharp ping cut through the silence and the doors flew open, allowing a flood of wizards and witches to surge into the lift. They piled in steadily and hurried to enter before the doors closed, their soft murmuring and chatter rising to fill the small space so rapidly that Harry felt lost in the rush. As one last witch squeezed her way in, Harry was jostled into a stiffened Malfoy. Harry put out a hand to steady himself. Malfoy hissed out a sound of annoyance and Harry lifted his hand abruptly from the blonde's shoulder.

"Er," said Harry by way of apology.

Malfoy sneered and used a hand to brush off invisible dust from his robes. "Do try to keep your hands to yourself, Potter," he said irritably, loud enough for the rest of the lift to hear.

Harry felt his face heat to the tips of his ears but still managed a soft but angry, "_Sorry_."

"Hmm. I should think so."

Harry rolled his eyes. Still a prat, then. If Malfoy was going to act like they were still in school, then he could have it his way. Though Malfoy didn't look much like he did in school. He looked older. And tired. Though Harry supposed he did too; they all did.

The lift plummeted down like a stone, and Malfoy bumped against Harry each time it came to an abrupt halt. Their chests thumped lightly at the next floor down and Harry wasn't sure where to look at all after he made the mistake of making eye contact and was rewarded with a withering stare and thin lips set in a firm line. Harry's face warmed again and he cleared his throat, settling his gaze on the spot on the wall above Malfoy's impossibly light hair.

"So...what department do you work for again?" Harry asked above the bedlam. Malfoy remained silent. Harry glanced back down and frowned. Maybe it was too loud.

Harry leaned closer and repeated his question, ignoring the wisps of blond hair tickling below jaw.

Malfoy's pursed his lips and his hands came up to his own collar. "I heard you the first time, Potter," he said, languidly fixing his tie into a tighter knot. His pointy elbows ran slowly along the length of Harry's ribs as they moved, grinding into his chest. Underneath his ribs, Harry's heart pounded hard in his ears. _God, Malfoy was infuriating even now. _Harry felt the familiar anger rise in the pit of his stomach and clenched his fists.

Harry groaned and shook his head. "Nevermind, forget I even-"

"I'm an Unspeakable," Malfoy answered, surprising Harry. He tilted his chin up as he spoke and his hands dropped back to his sides promptly. The lift came to a halt and Harry's wrist brushed Malfoy's. The skin there was warm.

"Oh," Harry said.

The sea of people was thinning at each stop.

"And you're an Auror," Malfoy continued in an even voice, looking at Harry with a scowl forming on his curling lips, "Which means, you should have gotten off at your stop seven floors ago."

"Er," Harry felt his face burn again and his mind flew to excuses. "I was-I just-"

His fists furled and unfurled and he shoved one hand into his robes to grasp his wand, as he sometimes did when he felt nervous, out of instinct. And then, feeling silly, produced it again from his pocket.

The lift stopped again and Harry felt the familiar rollercoaster jerk of his stomach thrown back into his chest. Malfoy's fingers brushed Harry's wand hand briefly in the momentum. Harry flinched at the touch. He practically _felt _Malfoy's magic sparking through it.

"I'll see you, Potter," Malfoy said curtly, pushing against Harry to move out of the lift though, Harry noticed only after the doors closed, that he didn't have to. They were the last two inside.

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't sure what to think about it. Except he kept thinking about it. At his desk, where he wrote up his files. At home, with his takeaway and his telly. Draco Malfoy. An Unspeakable? Harry wasn't sure he even knew what an Unspeakable did. Most of the Unspeakables he knew were older witches and wizards- most who had gone through extensive training and had proven themselves, in some way, trustworthy of secrets of the Department of Mysteries. But Malfoy? Harry's heart tugged at the memory of Sirius falling. He rolled his head in his hands before getting up the throw away his empty curry container. Guess he really didn't know anything about Malfoy after all.<p>

He dismissed the run-in as an singular occurrence.

And then it happened again.

There was a small rap at Harry's door.

"Come in," he said absentmindedly.

The door opened and Malfoy glided into the room, shutting the door behind him. Harry jerked up from his seat.

"Malfoy?"

"Potter."

Malfoy had a purpling bruise on a high cheekbone but besides that looked haughty as ever.

"What happened to your face?" Harry asked, standing up from his desk.

"What happened to _your _face is by far the bigger mystery," Malfoy said unamused. His voice became serious. "I need a file from you."

"What file?"

"The name is Fergilius Fern."

The name rang a bell. Harry looked down at the paper he had just started on. "I'm doing him right now," he said to Malfoy, "Can you come back in a half hour? I haven't even read it yet."

"All the better," Malfoy snipped, holding out his hand, "You haven't had a chance to mess it all up. Give it here."

"No."

Harry was suddenly very angry. He did good work for the Ministry, everyone knew that. And this was his job, damn it, and he was going to do it right, Malfoy be damned.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy said slowly, his voice burning low and smouldering still. "My orders override yours, Potter."

"What do you need the file for?"

"I can't tell you, you idiot."

Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy couldn't say because he was an Unspeakable or because he was an insufferable git. Most likely a combination of both.

Harry licked his lips, his voice raising. "Well, just wait a half hour. It can't be that urgent, can it? You took forever with that damn Vanishing Cabinet. I know you must possess some semblance of patience."

Something like hurt flashed across Malfoy's face and he narrowed his eyes. "Yes, well with you stalking me all over the place, it was hard to find the spare time."

Now it was Harry's turn to be outraged. He stepped towards Malfoy, "I was NOT stalking you! I was trying to figure out what you were doing."

Malfoy didn't budge. "And it looks like nothing's changed. Mind your own business, Potter. And I'll mind mine. Now hand me the file so I can be on my way, as _delightful_ as this conversation has been."

"You can sit here and wait," Harry said through his teeth. Malfoy glared back, his lips threatening to curl back to match Harry's. And suddenly Malfoy was very close to him, his hand on Harry's chest as if he was going to shove him but had changed his mind.

"I would wait on bated breath, Princess Potter, if I had the time," he hissed, "But I need to close this case. Some of us actually do work instead of spending their time wanking at their desk and using the loo."

Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist. "Shut up!"

Malfoy sneered and tried to jerk his arm back but Harry held on tight. "Let go of me!" he ordered.

"No!" Harry said crossly, trying to push Malfoy back out of his office but getting stuck in the doorway. Harry tried to reach for the doorknob with his other hand and Malfoy caught it with his.

Harry groaned, frustrated. He shoved his body against Malfoy, banging him against the door. Malfoy made a noise like he had had the air knocked out of him. He made an urgent sound in his throat and Harry found himself leaning into it. His nose grazed the edge of Malfoy's ear where the hairs tucked behind it came loose and dusted the back of his neck. Malfoy shifted underneath him and his sharp hips dug painfully into Harry's skin.

"You're obstructing justice, Potter," Malfoy hissed again. His grip on Harry's wrist tightened and it actually hurt. Harry scowled at him. "Just because you're Harry sodding Potter doesn't mean you're above the law. Merlin, you're full of yourself!" Malfoy's hips shifted again and Harry felt a spark in his groin. And a spark of panic in the back of his head.

"You're impossible," Harry growled, quickly letting go of Malfoy and backing off of him. Malfoy let go too and rubbed at his wrist.

"And you're a Saint?" Malfoy jeered, still breathing heavy.

"You tell me, Death Eater."

Malfoy froze for a fraction of a second and Harry immediately knew he had gone too far. Malfoy's face was suddenly shuttered and he brushed himself off-again, invisible dust-and headed towards the door, this time of his own volition. God, Harry hated himself sometimes.

"Malfoy, wait, I didn't mean it," Harry said, reaching out and grabbing a hold of Malfoy's left arm. Malfoy let out a pained shout as if the Mark still burned and whipped around.

"Go fuck yourself, Potter. Some people have changed. It's nice to see you haven't at all."

He left the office with a whirl of robes and a slam of the door that caused a pile of papers on Harry's desk to dislodge and float to the ground.

He heard someone call down the hall after Malfoy, "Oi, running late for a Dark Arts meeting?" and hated himself even more.

* * *

><p>Harry waited around the corridor, shifting from one foot to another. He had the file ready and he decided to deliver it himself to apologize. But his office was empty.<p>

"Stalking me again, Potter?"

Harry nearly jumped at the voice near his ear. Malfoy had walked out from the loo behind him, holding his wand. He tucked it away quickly.

Harry's eyes followed the movement. "You weren't in your office," he said lamely.

"I was attending a meeting," Malfoy said stiffly, and started walking down the hallway. Harry frowned but trailed after him. Malfoy opened the door to his office and beckoned for Harry to enter. "After you, Potter."

Harry entered and looked around nervously. The room was nearly bare, with a single desk and two chairs on either side of it. Two metal filing cabinets stood against a sterile wall. And Harry was surprised at this. He expected something more-well, more. Malfoy sat on his desk rather than in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest expectantly.

"Um. Look, I'm really sorry about what I-"

"It's fine," Malfoy snapped, "We don't have to like each other. May I please have that file now?"

Harry flattened his hair under his palm and handed it over to Malfoy with the other. "I don't _dis_like you," he said quietly. Which was true, he supposed.

"What are you going on about?" Malfoy demanded, opening the folder and scanning the documents with sharp eyes. "You can go now."

Harry's temper flared at being dismissed so flippantly and he rose up. "Look, Malfoy, I said I was sorry about what I said and I just want to-"

"You can do whatever you like," Malfoy hummed disinterestedly as he continued to flip through the papers.

Harry breathed out, frustrated. His eyes fell on the page Malfoy was on. "I tabbed the report on the Muggle incident in green and-"

"I don't need your help, Potter," Malfoy said firmly, finally looking at Harry for the first time since they set foot in his empty office. "Thank you, you can go now."

He hesitated and Malfoy took this as a sign to stand up and escort him out. But Harry couldn't let it end like that, not yet, not when he was still feeling like rubbish.

"Let me buy you a drink tomorrow?" Harry tried, "After work?"

Malfoy scoffed and leaned over him to reach the doorknob. His blond hairs itched the side of Harry's jaw.

Harry wrapped his hand around Malfoy's and removed it from the knob. "Hey, is that a yes or a no?"

Malfoy frowned at Harry for a long while. "Stop holding my hand."

"Oh!" Harry dropped it like it was on fire. His hand tingled as if it had been.

Malfoy's narrowed eyes searched Harry's. Harry looked blankly back. "What?"

Malfoy straightened up. It was only then that Harry noticed how close they were standing. It was a warm day but he could feel the heat from Malfoy's body and it came in stronger waves when he breathed in. Harry was uncomfortable that close to Malfoy's face. He had a better look at the bruise- it was darker already, didn't he have time to heal it yet?- but it was hard to avoid Malfoy's harsh gaze down his pointed nose. Malfoy's eyes pierced his and Harry suddenly felt very, very foolish for asking such a stupid question. Harry licked his lips nervously and watched as Malfoy's eyes darted low to his mouth like a hawk on its prey. Malfoy's lashes were fine against his pale skin and Harry nearly missed them save for the flutter of his eyes coming back up to meet Harry's.

"Fine," Malfoy said softly near Harry's cheek. The puff of air on Harry's face felt light and warm and somehow he felt the same way. He smiled despite himself.

"Great! That's great. See you tomorrow, then?" Harry said hopefully as he stepped out of the office.

"No, I've changed my mind," Malfoy said curtly, and closed the door in the Harry's face.

* * *

><p>It was still bugging Harry the next day.<p>

"I don't understand why you're getting so worked up about it, mate," Ron said lightly, scratching his nose. "It's not like you two have even spoken in years."

They stood in the break room, surrounded by pink boxes of stale donuts and the smell of other people's finished lunches in the trash. "Yeah, I know," Harry said agitated. His arm rested on the counter while Ron poured himself some coffee.

"And besides, it's _Malfoy_. Who cares!"

"It's just the way he acts around me that is so annoying."

"You mean the way he ignores you?" Ron asked, with a mouthful of pastry.

"Yes. I mean no! I mean. Sort of. I just want to know what he's doing."

Ron gave him a serious look, powdered sugar regally dusting his chin. "He's an Unspeakable, Harry. You _can't _know what he's doing."

Harry waved his hand. "No, I know, I know. I mean...I just want to know what he's been doing in his life in general."

"Why?" Ron was incredulous now.

"I don't know!" Harry said exasperated.

Ron was still looking at him like he had sprouted another head.

"I'm going to go to the loo," Harry announced, excusing himself. He was flustered and felt the heat rise along the back of his neck. Nevermind that he was headed to the bathroom on the 9th floor.

* * *

><p>The sound of Harry's shoes clicked loudly off the walls as he made his way down the empty hallway. No sign of Malfoy. Harry turned on his heel to go back but paused at Malfoy's office. The light in his office was out even though it was only mid afternoon. Again. Strange, Harry thought.<p>

He sighed and entered the bathroom to wash away the thought of Malfoy still clinging to his skin. He froze in his tracks. Malfoy was bent over the sink, the curve of his back arching gently into his ducked head. He was gripping the porcelain of the sink with thin hands that were reined in tight. His wand lay useless on the ground. A cold chill ran down Harry's back at the familiarity.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned to face Harry and Harry winced at the sight of a second fresh bruise blossoming on Malfoy's sharp jaw.

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy demanded sharply, glancing towards the door anxiously.

"Are you alright?" Harry said tentatively, inching closer.

"I'm fine, Potter, thank you for your concern." Malfoy snatched his wand from the floor and Harry thought for a moment that Malfoy would hex him. Instead, he tucked it into his robes and Harry felt petty for thinking otherwise.

"You don't... look okay," Harry pressed. He frowned and stepped forward. Malfoy was breathing hard and his hair was dark and dampened with sweat.

"I'd advise you to mind your own business," Malfoy said scathingly, pushing his hair back as if he knew what Harry was thinking. "What are you _doing_ here?" he repeated.

Harry ignored the question. "What happened? Why don't you just heal yourself?" Harry demanded, his brows knitting together and curiosity bubbling at the brim. "Here, let me heal it for you."

"I'm fine!" Malfoy snapped. One of his knees gave away suddenly and he caught himself on the edge of the sink.

Harry caught Malfoy's elbow and Malfoy looked up angrily through pale hair that stuck to the corners of his face with the sweat.

"Don't touch me!" Malfoy shouted, jerking his elbow away.

Harry held on anyway, pulling up on it to force Malfoy into a standing position. Malfoy curled his lip and scowled, on the defense even as he leaned against the bathroom wall panting still. His chest heaved desperate and heavy. The beads of sweat that gathered around his forehead made slick trails down his neck and into his robes. Harry followed them with his eyes and realized his breath was heavy too. Malfoy's tilted his head back the smallest degree and Harry watched his Adam's apple bob, dislodging a pearl of sweat that branched off in rivulets that disappeared beneath his collar. He reached out to touch and Malfoy slapped his hand away.

Harry's mind was buzzing.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy hissed.

"I just want to-just let me heal you."

Harry brought his hand up to Malfoy's face and held it gingerly with his palm, gently, like it was something liable to break. Malfoy didn't slap his hand away. His head felt heavy, like Harry's hand was the only thing holding it up. Harry used his finger to brush the skin there, grazed it lightly with his thumb, and the faint flutter of Malfoy's lids were the only indication that it hurt. Harry's heart beat faster.

Harry turned Malfoy's face in his hand and looked at the older bruise. It was beginning to yellow a bit at the ends and gave Malfoy's skin a sickly color at the edge of his cheek. But it was still dark and ugly and stark against the rest of his pale skin. The smell of stale sweat and steel and something else familiar entirely rose around them. Harry breathed out and Malfoy jerked at the sound. "What happened?" Harry asked again. His thumb moved to Malfoy's chin.

Malfoy's lips parted but he didn't answer. He was staring hard at Harry with his brows drawn together, tight as a bow and sharp as an arrow.

Harry sighed, frustrated. "What's your problem, Malfoy?" He asked crossly, "I'm just trying to help."

"Don't lose sleep over it, it's part of the job description," Malfoy sneered and turned his head out of Harry's hand altogether. His nose grazed the side of Harry's cheek and that same blond hair was tickling the underside of Harry's neck. Harry moved his face away. Malfoy continued, "And the last time we were in a bathroom together, it hardly seemed you cared if I was still breathing or not."

Harry suddenly felt heavy with guilt and dropped his hand to Malfoy's. He brushed Malfoy's palm with his the tips of his fingers and Malfoy closed his hand into a fist.

"That was a long time ago," Harry said, lowering his eyes. "I didn't know what it would do. I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright," Malfoy said darkly, "Considering the things I've done, I probably deserved it."

Harry's eyes flew up in surprise. "No, you didn't! Nobody does!" He thought of that scared little boy who couldn't kill Dumbledore even though everything in his scared little world depended on it. His stomach was twisting into knots of anger and guilt and pity. He had an inkling of what Malfoy had lost.

Malfoy was still looking away, but his face was furious. The lines in his face were tired and strained. "Hurry up, Potter!" his voice ricocheted off the tile walls.

"I-I just want to-" Harry started. He didn't know what he wanted.

"Then just do it!" Malfoy said in a dangerous voice, his eyes flashing like steel. Malfoy's face was cold but the pulse in his neck was beating hot and fast. Harry couldn't think straight. He touched Malfoy's jaw again, and licked his lips, his wand forgotten in his robes. His heart was beating quickly and the adrenaline in his veins was roaring in his ears.

Harry leaned in and kissed him. Malfoy made a startled noise in his throat and Harry shut his eyes and kissed him harder. His lips moved across Malfoy's chapped ones and he licked at a piece of skin that was lifting off the side of his bottom lip. Malfoy groaned and opened his mouth. Harry swallowed the noise and pushed his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, hot and wet and soft under his. And Malfoy kissed him back furiously, angry and desperate. Harry buried his hands into Malfoy's robes and hauled him close. His hands pulled the fabric loose and found their way inside to feel the hot skin underneath moist with sweat. Harry groaned into Malfoy's mouth and Malfoy bit his tongue, hard enough to hurt. Harry shoved Malfoy into the wall and Malfoy deepened the kiss.

Malfoy's hands were fisted in Harry's hair, pulling him flush against his body. Malfoy's pointed nose crushed against Harry's cheek and then the other as their mouths moved and tongues touched. Harry's glasses were pushed higher and higher up his nose and he let them. Harry's tongue twisted with Malfoy's and his hands burned on the smooth flesh of Malfoy's waist. Malfoy's mouth was hot and demanding, and Harry worked his way around it like he would never have another chance. Malfoy moaned and the sound was more arousing than any thought Harry had ever had.

Harry pressed himself hard against Malfoy, his growing erection pushing roughly against Malfoy's hip. Harry's teeth grazed Malfoy's lips and he kissed the side of his Malfoy's mouth, buried his mouth into Malfoy's cheek with a throaty groan. He could feel Malfoy hard under his robes too, arching against him. Harry slid his hands up Malfoy's back and moved his mouth clumsy and wet along the curve of his neck. Malfoy's shoulder was sharp against his and his flat chest rose and fell rapidly under Harry's hands. Like liquid velvet, Malfoy's tongue traced the roof of Harry's mouth tentative and slow before coming back down to draw Harry's tongue back into his mouth. Harry felt cold hands on his neck and Malfoy was running his hands down the nape of his neck. Harry shuddered and moved his hands to pull Malfoy's robes the rest of the way down his shoulders and freed arms that wrapped like silk around Harry's neck. Harry squeezed Malfoy's hips as hard as they were kissing until his lips burned and hurt from the pressure.

Harry pulled Malfoy's lip with him as he drew away, out of breath. His vision was blurred, both from the heat of the moment and his skewed glasses. He could make out dark eyes and a pale face close to his. He propped his glasses back in place and suddenly everything came into focus, red _Sectumsempra_ scars blooming across Malfoy's chest, remnants of a Dark Mark on his left forearm. Harry stared.

A pause was all it took. Malfoy took the opportunity to push Harry off of him and straighten his robes in a swift movement. Suddenly remembering, Harry scrambled for his wand and muttered a quick, "Episkey. _Episkey._"

"Thank you kindly, Potter," Malfoy seethed, his hair still dishevelled and his robes sticking to his flushed skin. But his face was unmarred and hard as stone.

Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't," Malfoy warned him.

"I was there," Harry blurted anyway. He felt like he had to say it. "I was there. That night on the Astronomy Tower. You shouldn't have, you should have trusted us, and I hated you for it but I know why you did it. I know you did it for your family."

Malfoy paused. "You don't _know_ anything about me."

* * *

><p>Harry walked back to his office even more restless than when he left it that morning. He palmed the still evident bulge in his robes and shut the door behind him. He thought briefly about wanking but the idea of proving Malfoy right about his earlier accusation kept him at bay.<p>

His thoughts were still swirling around Malfoy and his bruise and his words. He shook his head. _Mind your own business. For all you know, he walked into a door. Twice._

But he could still feel Malfoy's body pressing into his, hard. And his throat felt tight at the memory.

Harry straightened some papers on his desk and attempted to read the one at the top. He read the same paragraph three times and gave up.

Despite himself, Harry let his hand fall under his desk. He let out a breath and checked the door again nervously. Most people were probably gone for the day, it was nearly five pm.

Harry hesitated. He had never done this at work before. But he never snogged a bloke in the loo before either. He swallowed and lowered his hand into the waistband of his pants. He licked his lips and smoothed the course hairs down on the way to his -

His door flew open and Ron was suddenly in the room. "Hey Harry OH GOD!"

Harry nearly jerked out of his chair and ripped his hand from his pants. "RON! I WASN'T- I'M NOT-"

"YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS! I just found out- wait, you weren't what?" Ron asked bewildered as he watched Harry scrabbling at his desk, red-faced and flustered.

"Um. Nothing. Fell asleep at my desk there for a minute," Harry said, certain that he had just lost ten years off his life and willing his face to stop burning.

"Oh," said Ron frowning slightly. "Well you know how you were going on about how you wanted to know what Malfoy's been up to?"

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, trying to follow his train of thought.

"So I pulled some strings with Dean Thomas in Wizard Resources and found Malfoy's Ministry file," Ron paused, looking pleased with himself as he waited for Harry to prompt him.

"And what did you find?" Harry asked.

Ron lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Malfoy did special training with wards and transport after Hogwarts. He did rotations in Azkaban and interned at the Ministry before he was even hired."

Harry's brow furrowed. Wards and transport? He didn't know Malfoy was good with magic like that. Though he supposed he didn't know what he thought Malfoy was good at. Potions, he guessed. Or politics. Something.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said absently, grabbing for his cloak folded over his chair. "I have to go now." _Wards and Transport. _He had to look up what that entailed.

"Um, yeah, Harry, it's Friday. We both have to go. Mum will be pissed if we're late to dinner. Hermione's said she'd meet us there."

"Oh, right!"

* * *

><p>Dinner at the Burrow was a weekly thing.<p>

Ginny, like usual, seemed to be avoiding Harry's eyes. Though it was hard to tell if it was on purpose or if he was imagining it. She was talking to a grinning George and her nose crinkled when she laughed. A red curl caught in the corner of her mouth and she reached to brush it away before punching her brother in the arm at something he said. The strap of her dress kept falling loose around her small shoulders that shook as she laughed.

The rest of the family chattered around him merrily. To Harry's right, Hermione was glaring reproachfully at Ron who hadn't yet noticed and was talking loudly with his mouth full. Mr. Weasley was attempting to tell Molly about his day while she bustled about between the table and the kitchen, carrying overflowing platters of chicken and ham and boiled potatoes. Harry took a deep breath. This would always be home to him. He grew up here with the smell of baking and the sound of footsteps on the stairs and warmth of people who loved each other.

Mrs. Weasley brought the steak and kidney pie out last, Harry's favorite. She smiled at him knowingly, wiping her hands on her apron. Harry smiled back. The scene was a happy and familiar one and Harry knew that he should feel cheered by it but he wasn't. He always felt like he had lost something terribly important and the emptiness somewhere in his gut ached with the memory of it.

Ginny stood to cut a piece of pie, tendrils of her copper hair curling around the sides of her face and about her neck. Her dress clung to her soft body as she moved and her mouth was open in concentration. Harry remembered the way her round, red mouth felt when he kissed her for the first time. He had been so nervous, he was sure she could hear the hammering of his heart through his chest.

Harry felt the same way when she broke up with him, all freckles and red with anger, telling him that he wasn't giving her enough.

Then he thought of Malfoy who didn't want anything from Harry at all.

That night Ginny had thrust a box of things Harry had given her over the years into his open arms and Harry hadn't known what to say.

Ginny cut another slice of pie and held out her arm for Harry's plate.

Harry had always been Ginny's hero. She must have been severely disappointed to find out he was nothing special. Ron, too, though he never said so. Malfoy had expected Harry to lose the War. Some twisted, dark part of Harry (that he never, never shared with Ron or Hermione) thought maybe he preferred that. He certainly didn't feel like anybody's saviour.

"Harry!" Ron's elbow nudged him in the side. Everyone was looking at him from around the table.

"Oh! Sorry," Harry said sheepishly and accepted the slice Ginny placed on his plate.

* * *

><p>First thing Monday morning, Malfoy sat behind his desk eyeing Harry wearily.<p>

"What is this?" Malfoy said finally, looking suspiciously at the rectangular box Harry had produced from his robes.

"A present," Harry said.

Malfoy looked unamused. "It was only a kiss, Potter. You don't need to woo me with expensive gifts. I can assure you it won't happen again."

Harry felt the tips of his ears burn but pushed the box closer to Malfoy stubbornly. Malfoy sighed and opened the lid. And his jaw dropped a fraction at the sight of his old hawthorn wand nestled into the velvet draping of the case. Malfoy took it out and held the length of it in his hands, fingers running over the smooth wood in disbelief. The soft curve of his mouth tilted upwards for a sunny moment in time and Harry felt his mouth rise too.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked.

"Good," Malfoy said, the shadow of a smile still at his lips.

Malfoy turned the wand again in his hand and shook out his wrist as if testing it.

"Try it out," Harry urged.

"That's quite alright, I'm sure it works," Malfoy said, the smile slipping off his face. He put it back in the box and looked at Harry with uncertainty. "Thank you for returning it."

"It's your wand, it belongs with you. Sorry it took me so long to give it back."

"I thought you had thrown it away," Malfoy said, leaning back in his seat. His shoulders were sharp against the fabric of his chair.

"Throw it away? Malfoy, your wand helped me win the war."

"Did you know about the wand when you took it?" Malfoy asked, frowning.

"No," Harry confessed, "I sort of worked it out along the way. I never really knew what I was doing back then, things just kind of fell into place."

"Dumb luck?" Malfoy suggested.

"You could say that," Harry smiled. "I was lucky you couldn't recognize me at the Manor."

"I would know your stupid face anywhere, Potter," Malfoy assured him, a smile twitching at his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned anyway.

"So now you have to do me a favor," Harry told him.

"Do explain how returning a stolen item is a favor to be repaid."

"I was thinking after work, we could-"

"No. Get out of my office."

* * *

><p>Another stack of papers appeared in his IN box and Harry nearly snapped his quill in half. He had been stuck behind piles of paperwork for the past month. Things had been slow as of late which he supposed was good. No dark wizards terrorizing the public. Though a part of him wished Shacklebot would just burst into his room with an anonymous tip and a broom chase. Harry's legs ached to be wrapped around his broomstick and he missed the feel of the wind whipping at his hair and dragging over his cheeks. He could even go for a cheap Muggle disturbance at this rate, though it would mean Oblivating them (and he hated that).<p>

Harry sat grumbling at his desk, slowly realizing he was caught uncomfortably pressed against a glass ceiling. The famous Harry Potter. Can't have him apprehending everyday criminals, he's not just anyone you see. Which left Harry a small pool of cases assigned to him a month. And the pool was slowly trickling dry. Ron seemed happy enough with his paperwork. Harry had made the mistake of buying Ron a magnetic sculpture of the Eiffel Tower for Christmas and his friend spent most of his time playing with the pieces under his desk during work hours.

"Hey, Harry, how do magnets work again?" Ron called from across the hall and through their open doors.

"It's magic, Ron!" Harry hollered back. He could barely see Ron's head behind the stack of papers on his desk. Looked like they were both going to be here late.

Harry's mind drifted to Malfoy. He wondered if Malfoy had already switched wands. If he was holding it right now and if he felt that comfort of a wand that _chose you_, like the first time. Harry took it for granted now, but still remembered the warmth running up his arm and feeling that tug in his chest. Closing his fingers around the wand in his hand and knowing-this was _it._

The smile on Malfoy's lips was enough confirmation, he supposed. It was a foreign concept, Harry thought, smiling himself as he shook his head. The idea of making Malfoy smile. He had never seen it directed at him before let alone caused by him.

"Harry, what are you doing right now?" Ron called.

"Work. What are you doing?"

"Same. What are you doing?"

Harry sighed and resigned himself to sorting through the files. It was almost time to leave anyway. A few moments passed.

"Harry!"

"What, Ron?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Can you help me finish this one bit of paper, mate? I've got to go- I think it might be Hermione's birthday. Or our anniversary, but I can't remember."

Ron was already standing up, his face pale, as he shoved his arms into the wrong sleeves of his coat. Harry met him in the corridor. "I don't think it's her birthday," Harry said.

"I'm a goner," Ron moaned to Harry while entangling himself further, "Do you think Honeydukes is still open? Why do I do this to myself?"

He was still talking to himself when Harry moved to let him through the doorway.

"Thank you, Harry, I owe you one," he threw over his shoulder.

Harry's amusement broke when he entered Ron's messy office. The plant Hermione had deposited in the far corner was in a state that would have Neville swooning. The stacks of paper were piled precariously on all free space on the desk but one file was left open. Harry sat down at Ron's chair and almost disrupted the magnetic statue left unfinished to the side. Taking one last look at the clock to see how much time he had left, he bent his head over the desk and started filling out the forms Ron had left untouched save a liberal sprinkling of crumbs near the top.

Harry's neck had started to ache but he had finally finished. And it was only five minutes past. He felt accomplished and closed the folder and leaned back. He started to tidy up the desk a bit and then stopped, feeling more like Mrs. Weasley than he had any right to be.

There was a distant knock and he looked up to see who it was. Malfoy had his back to him and was facing Harry's office. Harry's door was still ajar and Malfoy paused for a moment before knocking again at the open door impatiently. Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he leapt up from the chair.

"Malfoy!" He stepped in front of Ron's desk so that Malfoy could see him.

Malfoy turned around and looked at Harry, bemused. "Playing musical chairs, Potter?" He stepped into Ron's office and looked around with the downward curve of his mouth the only indication of disdain. "How can anyone work like this?"

Harry shrugged, "Ron manages alright."

Malfoy looked like he was suppressing a sneer. "_Weasley?_"

"Yeah," Harry said. "He's not here, I was just helping him with something. What are you doing here?"

Malfoy twisted his mouth and switched his briefcase from one hand to the other before he spoke. "I've finished work early today. I thought I might take you up on your offer for a drink."

Harry couldn't stop his smile. "Alright, I just need to lock up my office."

* * *

><p>They sat at the smoky bar elbow to elbow in uncomfortable silence. It occurred to Harry that he had never had a normal conversation with Malfoy before without it turning into an argument or a fistfight. So he bid his time. A stout witch leaned over to refill the drink in Malfoy's glass and Harry was on his third. A fire was burning bright in the hearth and the light from the flames illuminated Malfoy's face in orange and gold and soaked into his hair like watercolour. His nose looked impossibly pointy with the flickering light licking up his cheeks and the curve of his brow. Malfoy looked down into his firewhiskey and his lashes looked aflame.<p>

"I-er-" Harry began, shifting in his seat.

"I see you're a man of many words," Malfoy said, looking at Harry pointedly.

"How are your parents!" Harry shouted.

Malfoy's face crumpled and his mouth twisted bitterly. He tossed back the rest of his drink. "My mother is fine, managing the estate. My father is in Azkaban."

Harry perked at the mention of Azkaban. "Oh," he said, mind reeling.

"How are yours?" Malfoy asked, contemptuously.

Harry scowled.

Malfoy's mouth was an ugly curl, "Oh, were we not asking questions with obvious answers? Surely you knew about my father, don't you read?"

"I had no idea about your father. I don't keep up with the papers."

Malfoy looked at Harry with equal parts curiosity and anger. "Why not?" he demanded.

"I don't like thinking about it," Harry said, feeling suddenly defensive. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Hm."

Malfoy raised his hand for another drink and the bartender nodded at him. Malfoy gestured to Harry as well and Harry had to chug the rest of his lager to make room for another brimful. Harry was starting to feel the warmth in his face and in his belly.

"Why did you decide to start working at the Ministry?" Harry pressed.

"What is this, 20 questions, Potter?" The corners of Malfoy's mouth threatened to rise.

"No!"

"If you must know," Malfoy's leg pressed warm against Harry's as he leaned in. "It's my way of getting closer to you," Malfoy drawled, his face looming into focus, "So I can finish the job the Dark Lord couldn't."

"Ugh," Harry shoved Malfoy back who was laughing openly, "You're the worst."

Malfoy was still laughing and his leg was still pressed to Harry's. Harry nursed his drink in his hands.

"Why are you an Auror?" Malfoy asked, "Didn't get enough adventure saving the day as the Boy Wonder?"

"I sort of like being on my feet," Harry said honestly. "I don't like having to overthink things."

"No, I don't suppose you're much of a thinker," Malfoy mused. His glass was empty but his eyes were full of mirth so Harry let that one slide.

The warmth from his chest and from the fire were getting a bit much. Harry could feel the perspiration misting down his back and around his armpits. He loosened his collar and Malfoy watched him do it.

"What happened to the girl Weasley?" Malfoy said, resting his jaw in his hand.

Harry was surprised he remembered. "It didn't work out."

"Pity." Malfoy didn't look like he meant it.

"How about you? Didn't you have that girlfriend in school?"

"Blaise would be offended you thought that."

Harry felt himself flush. "Oh."

"Why, may I ask, do they have you cooped up in that stuffy office all day? My impression of an Auror was much more formidable than that. Also, your handwriting is shit."

"It's not _that_ bad," Harry protested, pushing up his glasses though they didn't need adjusting. "And I'm not sure, why. I think it's because they have me on some kind of special-case-only reserve that I don't much appreciate."

"You sure it's not because you're pants at your job?"

"Maybe," Harry admitted.

"I'm kidding, Potter. You were literally born for the job. Why haven't you talked to Shacklebolt about upping your workload?"

"I don't know, it just never came up."

"Since when do you just let things happen to you without rushing into it head-on? Don't be stupid, tell them to change their policy."

Harry smiled. "I think I will."

The same witch from earlier put more logs into the hearth, the dry wood crackling loudly before smouldering over in the glowing embers. The smell of fresh cedar came up in plumes and burnt the inside of Harry's nostrils. The heat of the room was stifling and warming still and Harry felt like he was trapped in a sauna. The hot air drifted up his sleeves, licked at the back of his neck, and Harry felt his skin pricking uncomfortably. Malfoy was drawing dark, wet circles into the wood counter with his glass. Even the glass was sweating but Malfoy's smell was still sharp and clean from across the table against the earthiness of the wood and the dirt floor and the trapped air. Malfoy stroked his fingers against the frosted glass, the beads of condensed water collecting along his fingertips and dripping down to his wrist and dampening the edges of his sleeve.

"It's still there," Harry said.

"What is?" Malfoy asked.

"The Mark."

"Barely," Malfoy pulled up his sleeve to prove his point. The skull and snake imprinted there on his thin arm looked freshly inked still. Harry didn't mention it. He did reach out to touch it.

Malfoy watched him do it. Harry felt lightheaded and told himself it was the heat and not the drink.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.

"No."

Harry's hand shook as he traced the pattern with the curve of his palm, expecting Malfoy to jerk it away at any moment. He didn't. The Mark was dark and and unsettling even after all this time. The blackness in the hollows of the skull filled Harry's eyes and he fought a shudder despite the heat. The serpent's body coiled in hypnotic undulations that seemed to crawl under Malfoy's skin and threatened to poke through. Harry covered it with his hand and looked up. Malfoy was studying his face with dark eyes that changed in the firelight. Harry realized his mouth was parted wide and he closed it, pressing his lips together.

Malfoy put his hand on Harry's and kept it there for a moment before picking it up and placing it on the table. He rolled his sleeve down slowly, each turn of the fabric an effort. His arm was covered once more and the end of his sleeve was already dry. Harry's mouth was dry. So he drank some more.

Malfoy was looking into his cup again and his jaw was sharp against the glow. Harry's head was swimming and his chest felt heavy, anchoring him to the barstool beside Malfoy and beside the fire and beside himself with heartache. Harry's head was throbbing and the people and noises in the bar were blurring together into a warm hum.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"If you could do it again, would you still have-"

"No," Malfoy said, his words ringing like a gunshot in Harry's ears.

Harry felt like a weight had lifted off his chest.

Malfoy put down a handful of coins and pushed out his stool out to leave.

"Hey, wait!" Harry dug into his pocket for some coins before realizing that Malfoy had paid for him.

Malfoy was nearing the fireplace to floo home.

"Malfoy, wait! Do you want to go flying?"

Malfoy stopped and looked at him incredulously. "Are you mad?"

* * *

><p>"You're mad," Malfoy said, crossing his arms.<p>

"I'm not."

Harry had grabbed Malfoy's arm and apparated them both to 12 Grimmauld Place and were now standing outside in the pale moonlight and under what Harry presumed to be the entire twinkling Malfoy and/or Black family. Harry held out a spare broom for Malfoy to take, an old Firebolt model. His own legs were wrapped securely around his broom.

"I'm not going anywhere," Malfoy scowled, "And neither are you at this rate. You're stumbling."

"I'm not!" Harry said earnestly, leaning forward to press the broom handle into Malfoy's hand. Harry lost his balance and fell against him instead. Malfoy caught him and made a snide comment but Harry didn't hear it, only felt it in the vibrations that traveled to his ears and rattled his chest. He was confident his head would stop hurting once he was in the sky.

Harry straightened up, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Malfoy was looking at him appraisingly with a frown on his face. "You're going to fly," he said, unconvinced.

"Watch me," Harry grinned, bracing his feet against the soil that crumbled at his feet. He pushed off the ground and felt what he had been dying to feel for so long. The rush of momentum roared in his ears as he lifted off the ground and left everything behind- his stomach, his voice, his uncertainties. The wind tossed his robes in inky waves about him and he felt his hair fly back from his face and whip wildly and he kicked up his feet to accelerate. He shot up like a rocket, slowing his ascent only to feel the cold air bite against his pulse point beating wildly in his neck. His skin was burning up and the air chilled his throbbing head and he felt exhilarated. Malfoy was a pale beacon of light below him and his fair hair waxed stark against the blackness of the sprawling ground.

Harry plunged low on his broom to shout out to Malfoy, his eyes tearing at the speed of his downward spiral. His stomach caught up with him on the dive and he instantly felt sick. He closed his eyes against the vertigo. When he opened them, Malfoy was suddenly on his broom beside him.

"Potter, get down!"

Malfoy's hair was blowing into his face and his eyes were unbearably grey. His hands were gripping the broomstick tightly and his mouth was open, harsh and concerned. Harry thought briefly that he would like to kiss that mouth. The thought nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Potter!"

Harry obliged, landing haphazardly into a set of bushes. The leaves were sharp against his skin and a hard branch dug into his ribs. He heard the soft thump of Malfoy landing beside him.

"I hope you're satisfied with yourself."

"I think I locked us out of the house," Harry groaned, internally wincing at how slurred the words sounded to himself.

Malfoy made an angry sound of disbelief and Harry threw up into the bushes.

.

The brightness washed in and out and Harry grimaced, rolling to his side to block out the light. The blades of grass itched his face and he jerked awake, startled. He sat up on the damp grass with leaves poking out of his robes and probably in his hair. Malfoy lay asleep next to him. _God, I'm an idiot_, Harry thought to himself grimly. Flashbacks from last night came to him and it gave him a splitting headache that had built up since then. He squinted his eyes and looked at the body huddled next to him.

The sunlight that streamed through the branches left splotchy shadows on Malfoy's face and Harry watched the pockets of light shift and illuminate the curve of his cheek and his widow's peak. Malfoy looked tense even in sleep. Harry held his breath and ignored the urge to press a hand to Malfoy's forehead. The furrow between his brows deepened and shallowed out as his eyes darted beneath his eyelids. His breathing was deep and his chest rose softly, a fisted hand clutched to his side.

"Malfoy."

Malfoy stirred and his eyebrows knitted together like it hurt. He didn't wake.

Harry hesitated. His mouth tasted sour and he swallowed hastily trying to wash the taste out.

He leaned over Malfoy and shook a shoulder. "Hey, Malfoy."

Malfoy's gasped as he snapped up and Harry drew back.

"Potter!" Malfoy accused, dead leaves falling from his hair when he spoke.

"Were we out here all night?" Harry asked, eyes small against the sun. It was still early in the morning.

"Yes," Malfoy hissed, "Because you locked us out."

"Why didn't you just _alohomora _the door?" Harry said, annoyed.

"I didn't think of it."

Harry mouthed disbelief. Malfoy looked flushed.

"You're such a moron, Potter, I can't believe I wasted all night with you."

Harry felt a stab of resentment. "Well I don't remember asking you to stay with me. Why didn't you just go home?"

"On a broom? All the way to Wiltshire? You_ are_ mental."

"No, you idiot, why didn't you just apparate home!"

"I didn't think of it," Malfoy gritted through his teeth. "And I was drunk."

Harry frowned. Malfoy didn't seem that sloshed last night. "That doesn't make any sense-"

Malfoy kissed him. Harry fell back at the unexpected weight and Malfoy tumbled on top of him. Malfoy's lips were still warm from sleep and they drifted over his. Harry groaned and kissed him back. Malfoy's body was a hard weight against Harry's chest and he felt breathless.

Harry's fingers dug into the earth below him to ground himself when Malfoy broke for air. His heart was beating wildly and his head was hurting from the blinding light still sifting down through the leaves.

Malfoy's head rested in the groove of Harry's neck and he panted there.

"I've been thinking about you all week," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut.

Malfoy shuddered. "God, Potter."

The words branded Harry's skin where they fell from Malfoy's open mouth. They lit him on fire and he felt reckless with desire numbing his thoughts and warming his limbs, up.

He ground up against Malfoy and gasped to find Malfoy already hard against his thigh.


	2. Fault

Malfoy's eyes went dark and he pressed his hands firmly on Harry's chest. The look in them burned through Harry.

He swallowed thickly and slowly reached between them, palming Malfoy through his robes. Malfoy shut his eyes and moaned, sending a spark of arousal down Harry's spine, settling in his groin. He needed to hear it again.

Harry moved his hands into Malfoy's trousers and pushed past his pants, feeling the trapped heat he knew was Malfoy's cock. He wrapped his hand around it. Malfoy moaned louder and his breath slid down Harry's neck like a hot fog.

He stroked Malfoy, watching his face change and his breath catch as he fought to keep himself steady on top of Harry. Harry kissed Malfoy's (right) arm as he touched him, feeling the soft light hairs there against his lips and tongue. Harry's cock was aching. The sun in his eyes was blinding and sharp. It vaguely occurred to him that people might see them out in the yard but Malfoy bucking into his hand distracted him from it.

Harry built up the rhythm and Malfoy spread his legs wider, knees smearing across the grass. His cock was slippery with pre-come and Harry's own cock twitched under his robes. The smell of Malfoy was intoxicating, an acerbic sweetness between the vomit and the crushed grass and it was making him dizzy with want. Malfoy was silky smooth and hard in his hand and Harry felt the heat sear through him.

Harry stroked in quick lengths and Malfoy was making sounds that seemed too soft for that sharp a mouth. Malfoy dipped his head and kissed Harry, letting his teeth graze the borders of his lips. Harry was flushing hot from his chest and up his neck and tried to loosen his robes but Malfoy had them bunched up in his fists.

Harry kissed his neck instead and Malfoy arched into it. Malfoy slipped one hand under the waist band of Harry's pants and Harry nearly came when Malfoy's thin fingers (finally, finally) clutched his throbbing cock. The touch was light but sure and Harry groaned as Malfoy's wrist twisted at the base of his cock and came back up along the length. Harry hoped he was doing something that felt half as good. He bit his lip and continued to stroke Malfoy until Malfoy's hand slowed and he came with a soundless cry into Harry's fist and across his belly.

Harry came right after in Malfoy's stilled hand, spurting into it and over his stomach, too.

Malfoy seemed to have caught his breath in the meantime. He pushed himself off of Harry and off the ground and dusted himself as he stood- real dust.

"Come on, we're going to be late for work," he said, looking stern but not sounding it at all.

Harry looked up at him, gaping. "Are you-what are-you serious?"

Malfoy smiled at him. The _insufferable git._ Harry thought he kind of liked that.

"That was fun. Er. Last night, I mean."

"For you, maybe," Malfoy said. He offered his hand to Harry to lift him up. Harry thought he saw another bruise peeking out from where his robes had loosened at the chest but Malfoy had already hauled him to his feet and the sun was too bright to tell for certain.

Harry spelled them into the house and they floo'd to work from Harry's fireplace not a minute late for work.

* * *

><p>Much to Harry's disappointment, he didn't see Malfoy again for the rest of the day though his head perked hopefully over his workbench at the sound of shoes clacking in the hallway.<p>

He didn't see Malfoy again for the rest of the week. He stopped by Malfoy's office once in a moment of weakness but it was empty and dark. He left a note that said 'Hi. -Harry' under the door. He didn't get a reply.

That Friday, Harry had a long talk with Shacklebolt about his responsibilities and duties and they both agreed that he could use more work out in the field. Harry was surprised at how adamant he sounded when demanding more cases and was even more surprised at how willing Shacklebolt was to accommodate his wishes. Almost immediately after, Shacklebolt sent out a flying memo to all departments to redirect incoming cases to Harry.

"That's awesome, Harry," Ron said cheerfully over the water cooler. "Cheers, mate!" and pretended to toast him with his dixie cup.

"Thanks, Ron" Harry said brightly, unable to hide his excitement about being on duty again. "How was your anniversary?"

"False alarm," Ron said with a sigh of relief.

"When is it really, then?" Harry asked.

"I hadn't gotten there yet."

Harry laughed.

When he got back to his office, there was a note under his door. "Congratulations."

The days blurred together with Harry spending more time out of the Ministry than in it. Harry began to think that this weird Malfoy thing was a blip in the system. He had spent all afternoon in Diagon Alley, investigating a disturbance behind the Madam Malkin's. He had to separate the two witches who were hurling insults at each other, quarreling over the last plum-coloured traveling cloak.

"Look at her skin colour!" The tall, bushy-haired witch cried, pointing a finger at the other, "Do you think purple would even look good on her?" She looked at Harry expectantly with a scowl.

"Er..." Harry replied, still holding his arm up to keep her back, "I really can't say."

"It's not even in her size!" She shrieked, reaching around Harry's arm to thrash at the air between her and the other witch who was smirking at her while holding onto her package. The tall one whacked Harry in the face with a flailing hand.

Harry was only too happy to leave the scene. Three hours and a four page report later, he trudged towards the Ministry Floo, eager for home. He rolled his head on his shoulders. He felt his neck crack and it felt good. It was the longest day at work in a while and he had missed celebrating a Canons victory with Ron and Dean and Neville at the Three Broomsticks.

There were still a couple stragglers rushing about the atrium and Harry felt a little better about not being the last to leave. As he picked up powder with his fingers, he caught a blond head out of the corner of his eyes, a moving figure in his periphery. Harry looked up and barely caught Malfoy flooing away in a hurry. His face looked hollow. In the green glow that swallowed his body, Harry could make out a bunch of papers in his hands.

Harry's eyes widened behind the reflection in his glasses as he recognized his own handwriting on them. Fergilius Fern.

_You're not supposed to take official documents out of the Ministry, Malfoy._

Harry couldn't help it. He needed to know.

He changed his mind about going home. He turned right back around to his office.

One hour and four face-palms later, Harry still didn't understand. He searched the Ministry archives for the name from the file: Fergilius Fern. He looked it up in Magical records and even cross listed it with Muggle records. He had filled out the paperwork just weeks ago and it never took this long for the records to update. He wracked his memory. Fergilius Fern, 50 something years old, British Wizard, one case of potion abuse in his file. Harry blinked at the search result: 0 hits. This man didn't exist.

Harry leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet onto his desk. He stared at the ceiling, bewildered.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry said to himself.

* * *

><p>Malfoy was reading a heavy book that he set down as Harry stepped into his office.<p>

"Don't you knock?" he complained. But he looked pleasantly surprised.

"Sorry," Harry said, "I had some free time and wanted to see what you were doing."

"Some light reading," Malfoy sighed, shoving the huge volume he had been reading to the side.

Harry laughed. But it was troubled.

The blinds behind Malfoy were drawn half way and the slits of light and dark that crept into the room made the grey office look like a jail cell. The shadows fell onto the table and the floor, elongating the distance between them. "You seem busy recently," Malfoy said absently, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. Harry felt a warm spark of satisfaction that Malfoy had noticed. Had he been looking for him? _Or avoiding him._

"Yeah, I've been on more active duty recently," Harry told him, plopping down across the sterile desk. Malfoy smiled at him. The room looked washed out- the walls were grey, the table was grey, Malfoy's face looked grey except for the warmth of his lips. Harry suddenly felt that the room was too small and that it was centered around Malfoy's mouth.

"I'm glad it worked out for you," Malfoy said.

"Me too. How about you, have you been busy?"

"Always."

"I stopped by yesterday but you weren't here."

"I must have been in a meeting," Malfoy lay his hands on the table, palms down. His eyes were are grey as the rest of the room.

"No, after hours. I wanted to see if you wanted to get another drink. Did you just go home after your meeting?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Harry's heart sank into his stomach at the lie. "I never see you flooing home."

"I work a lot of over time."

"Don't you want to spend more time with your mom?"

Malfoy looked at Harry critically. "Of course I do. Though I think she prefers her own company to mine sometimes."

Harry seriously doubted that. He remembered the concern in Narcissa's frightened eyes as she asked Harry if her son was still alive. He remembered a pang of jealousy that Draco still had a mother to love him. "Oh," Harry said instead. He realized he was still jealous.

"I was closer to my father," Malfoy said eventually. Harry felt a cold stone of hatred form in his belly. The man was vile and Harry fought the curling of his lip at the thought.

"He put me on my first broom. Taught me my first spell. He gave me great advice when I was in school-"

"Like how to hate muggles?" Harry offered, bristling.

Malfoy's mouth twisted into an angry shape. "They hate us."

"They do not!" Harry said, though he wasn't sure anymore. His mind's eye recalled the look of fear and disgust in a muggle's eyes before Harry casted an _Obliviate_. (He hated doing that.)

"He's a great man," Malfoy insisted hotly, his eyes flashing in challenge.

"Yeah, a great man who almost killed me," Harry protested bitterly. He felt the rage building and burning behind his eyes. _How can you defend someone who nearly killed you, too?_

Malfoy looked at him angrily. "He _had_ to."

"He didn't have to do anything. He could have done the_ right_ thing."

"Voldemort would have killed us at any time if we didn't follow orders. My father had no choice. _I_ had no choice. I was living in fear for a year, Potter. I had no idea if-if I failed, if I would have have a family to come home to. You should know something about protecting the people you care about. There's no such thing as right or wrong. And you're a fool to think otherwise."

Malfoy looked anguished. His face was troubled and his mouth was a furious line, twisted against itself. "Is this what you came here for? I don't need you to forgive me, Potter. And if this is why you've been seeking me out all this time- I'm sorry to disappoint, but you're not going to find what you're looking for."

And Harry was instantly sorry, too. He felt guilty. And he felt like an arsehole for thinking Malfoy was up to no good, sneaking about the Ministry, when it was his job to keep secrets. Malfoy was probably better at hiding secrets than anyone.

"You always have a choice," Harry said stubbornly.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Malfoy said. "It happened."

But Harry could tell it mattered to him and was sure Malfoy knew it was a lie too.

When Malfoy leaned forward in his seat the light from outside spilled over his head and shoulders onto the table. The edges of Malfoy's hair gleamed gold in the afternoon glow like a static corona. His eyes were cold against the grey stillness of the room. Everything was wrong about it and Harry felt it pecking at his chest. It fluttered in his gut like a caged bird.

Harry was ashamed of himself for coming. And more ashamed for thinking Malfoy seemed the most human when he was the most fragile.

"That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I wanted to see you," Harry managed.

Malfoy looked tired.

"Your dad would be really proud of you," Harry said quietly.

"Would he?" Malfoy looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. The movement rustled his robes like sandpaper in the silence. It felt like a breath of fresh air. "I'd like to think that," he said.

Harry smiled at him. Malfoy almost-smiled back. The room burst into life.

* * *

><p>AN Please read and review.


	3. Worth

A/N As some of you know, I was thinking about pulling this fic from here and posting on livejournal only, once the whole thing is done. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, and I hope you continue to do so. It helps me write faster and gives me confidence that you're actually reading something you like. I will continue to post here. I predict two more chapters till it's complete.

Part of the reason I wanted to post this as a whole piece instead of as a work in progress is because I sometimes make edits later on. This chapter is an example of where that happened. I probably won't ever have an insertion this big again in the timeline, but I apologize for doing that to you in this chapter. Maybe you won't even notice. Cheers and thank you, again!

* * *

><p>That night Harry fell asleep thinking about Malfoy- about the war and choices and dreamed vividly.<p>

He felt Voldemort's breath on his skin, prickling like a million pins into his neck, his arms, making the hair stand on end and the feeling of dread course through his veins like ice. He was wheezing in quick, shallow breaths that hurt and burned his throat and tasted of ash. His lungs were blocks of lead that wouldn't fill, only weighed him down. Clutching at his chest, his hands were useless too, they were heavy and clumsy and crawled over the skin like fat spiders.

He was afraid. A dark, cowardly part of him thought he should just run away. His pulse beat wildly out of his neck, scratching, clawing at the skin to get out. And the noises, like screeching and crying and the sound of metal grinding on metal. Faces flashed, but backwards. Fred's ashen face and Mrs. Weasley's wet cheek pressed into it. The broken look in Snape's eyes before they closed. Dobby's lone grave in the cold sand. Malfoy's ugly sobs echoing across the bathroom tile. Sirius falling backwards, then Dumbledore. Cedric's limp body in his hands and Harry aching heart stopped. It was like everything in the world hung by a thread, paused in motion. Time stood still like when a Horcrux was destroyed.

Harry woke up to his own gulping breaths and his blankets tangled like vices around his legs. His bedclothes were damp and clinging to him like a second skin. Nightmares hadn't been nearly this bad in a long time and he was still shaking when he fumbled for his alarm clock. It wasn't even midnight.

He rested against the headboard and felt the hard wood press his shirt soaked with cold sweat into his skin. He found himself thinking about Malfoy again and wondered if he ever had nightmares like this. Perhaps his life had been a nightmare, confined to a dingy bathroom and Moaning Myrtle. Malfoy had been so sure that he had no choice during the war. It was odd; at the time, Harry knew he had choices but felt like they had all been made for him. It made things easier. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't imagine having to choose between protecting the people he loved and standing up for what he believed in- they had always been two sides of the same coin. He recalled Malfoy's wretched sobs that seemed to tear from his chest, the fearful reluctance in his face when looking at Harry at the Manor, at Hogwarts. He had always taken it for cowardice. It still was- though Harry suddenly felt very grateful that the only thing he inherited from his parents were his mother's eyes and his father's recklessness. Malfoy had inherited his fathers' guilt.

Harry was still thinking about him when he drifted off, still sitting up against the headboard with his blankets curled at his feet.

* * *

><p>That Friday, Ginny brought her new boyfriend to dinner. Ron seemed surprised, but shook his hand anyway. She introduced him but Harry didn't hear his name. Harry was staring as he took the empty seat next to George that had once been Fred's.<p>

Harry had never seen Ginny so happy, even when they were dating. Her cheeks were flushed with it, the curve of her mouth was meant for it. Her whole face seemed to glow and she tucked a copper lock of hair behind her ear, coyly, as she explained to Hermione how they first met. She wet her lips as she spoke, freckles splattered like cinnamon across her rosy cheeks that were rounded in a soft smile. A part of Harry felt horribly inadequate and he wondered dimly if he could ever make anyone that happy. He hoped so.

Mrs. Weasley asked Harry about Teddy and Harry was happy for a change of subject. But he still saw Ginny whispering into the boy's ear across the table and saw the way he smiled, too, and squeezed her hand. Her small body was turned into him, angled even while sitting in her chair.

But mostly, Harry could feel everyone watching him nervously, to see if he was okay. He gritted his teeth and was sure it was only awkward because they seemed to think it should be. In an attempt to include him, Harry somehow got talked into showing the boyfriend around the Ministry (he was thinking about Auror training someday). Ginny volunteered information about Harry's quidditch days and the boyfriend suggested Harry join them and his mates for an after-dinner game next week (they played Friday nights).

He smiled at Harry expectantly.

"If I'm not too busy with work," Harry said politely.

.

Harry and Ginny washed the dishes together afterwards. She hummed happily to herself as she sunk her hands into the soapy water, splashing the floor and Harry, too.

"He's nice," Harry said, reaching for a towel.

"You really think so?" Ginny asked, biting her lip as she looked at him. Her eyes were large on her pretty face and her hands were soapy on her dress, soaking through.

"Sure," Harry agreed, handing her the towel.

"Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me," she said and smiled at him.

He barely heard her say, over the sounds of dishes clacking and the running water, "I hope you move on, too."

As Harry was leaving, the boyfriend slapped a hand to his back and reminded him to bring his quidditch gear for next week. And then asked solemnly, if it was quite alright, to have a look at Harry's scar.

* * *

><p>Next Thursday came faster than Harry would have liked.<p>

He came home late from work (which was beginning to become a regular thing, he noticed) and was exhausted from an attempted robbery and chase across the Muggle part of London. His muscles ached-the chase was on foot- and his robes and trousers, sticky with sweat, clung to his underarms and crotch uncomfortably. He shook out his robes by the collar to air himself, cooling his heated flesh, then reached into his pants to peel his cock from the fabric bunched up against it. His cock was soft and tingled pleasantly when he touched it but it was too hot to even stand still, let alone wank. Still, the temptation was there and his thoughts went to Malfoy's tight body and the inside of his mouth. The sharp curve of his neck and the softer curve of his cock. Harry had stopped questioning what it meant a long time ago, given up, and wanked over it since then. But today, today it was definitely too hot for that.

The roots of his hair were wet and smelled of sweat and his glasses kept slipping from his nose. He wiped his face on a dish towel and leaned on the countertop in his kitchen with both hands.

He thought about dinner at the Burrow the next day and sighed.

"I hope you move on, too," Ginny had said.

_I have moved on!_ Harry thought stubbornly. _I've been with other people, too._

Though he didn't know if Malfoy counted. He didn't know what Malfoy counted as.

He bent to open the fridge and grimaced at the pain shooting down his thighs. He pulled out a greasy paper bag of fish and chips and grimaced again when he straightened up.

He wasn't sure if he was up for a game of quidditch the next day, not in this condition. He hadn't even flown since-

Malfoy.

This was ridiculous. If he thought about Malfoy so much, then he might as well-

Harry wiped his hands on his robes and grabbed a quill and parchment from a drawer. He penned a letter and sent it off with an owl.

.

_Hey,_

_Do you want to save my life?_

_-Harry_

_ ._

His owl came back before Harry had even finished eating.

.

_Not particularly, no._

_-Draco_

_ ._

Harry grinned. _Arse_. He wrote back.

.

_I need an excuse to skip dinner at Ron's tomorrow. Do you want to get another drink?_

_-Harry_

_ ._

His owl came back quickly, again. Harry still hadn't changed out of his robes. He didn't want to miss the response. He hadn't even left the room and had been tinkering with the stove he never used. The bird hooted at Harry and he stroked his feathers with a finger as he read the note.

.

_Not if it goes the same way as last time._

_-Draco_

.

Harry wrote back.

.

_I thought leaves in your hair was a good look._

_-Harry_

.

_I should've left you to the wolves. _

_Unfortunately for you, I have a date with my mother at the theatre. Perhaps next time._

_-Draco _

_ ._

Harry tossed the note in the wastebasket and smiled at the thought of Malfoy spending time with his mother. He had taken Harry's suggestion.

Harry gave the owl a treat and went to his storage closet to dig out his quidditch gear. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

><p>Harry waited till next week to owl again.<p>

.

_Tomorrow is Friday. Are we on?_

_-Harry_

_ ._

_I don't know if I want to be seen with you in public. I stopped doing charity events years ago._

_-Draco_

_ ._

_You are the most annoying person I've ever met._

_-Harry_

_ ._

_Is what people must tell you all the time, I'm sure._

_-Draco_

_ ._

_Yeah, about you._

_-Harry_

_ ._

There was a delay between the letters.

.

_I'll think about it._

_-Draco_

_ ._

Upon reading the last one, Harry distinctly thought his chest had no right to feel that light.

* * *

><p>"Does your person have a hat?" Harry shouted across the hall.<p>

"No," Ron said.

Harry flipped all the faces down that had a hat on his Guess Who? board. Slow day at the office.

"Is your man blonde?" Ron asked.

Harry felt himself flush lightly at the thought of seeing Malfoy tonight. His character wasn't blonde, though. "No," he said.

Ron made a disgruntled noise and he heard clacking of flipped faces from his office.

"Does your person have a moustache?" Harry ventured.

"No. Does your man have a pointy nose?"

Harry felt himself flush again. "No," he answered weakly. "Does yours have brown hair?"

"Yes!" Ron said, annoyed. "Did you see my card, Harry?"

"No. How could I have? I'm all the way over here."

"I guess. By the way, Mum wants to know what you want to eat for dinner."

"Oh, I can't come to dinner tonight," Harry said quickly, trying his best to sound apologetic. He had been waiting for the right moment to tell him.

"What?" Ron asked, his surprise apparent even though Harry couldn't see his face. He heard the wheels of Ron's chair squeal as he stood up.

"Sorry, I can't make it. Tell your mom I said hello for me."

After a bout of silence, Ron said suspiciously, "Do you have a date, Harry?"

"No," Harry said cautiously. He wasn't entirely sure if Malfoy's answer had been a yes. And even if he had meant yes, it certainly wasn't a _date_.

"I knew it! Who is it?" Ron asked, excitedly. His face appeared in the doorway and he grinned loftily at Harry. "It is that fox at the front desk, Lisa? She's had an eye on you for ages."

"I'm not-" Harry started, horrified. He didn't even know who Ron was talking about.

The grin evaporated off Ron's face. "Blimey, it's not that bint from Regulation and Control, is it? Because that is _not on_, Harry. She looks like a _man_."

"No!" Harry nearly shouted, definitely red in the face by now_,_ "I don't have a date! I just -er-have something to do tonight, that's all."

"Well, alright," Ron said, reluctantly. "But seriously, if its Lisa..."

"It's not Lisa!"

* * *

><p>"Have you finished thinking about it?" Harry asked. He had waited in the Ministry atrium for the last hour waiting for Malfoy to come out of the lift. When he did, Malfoy looked shocked to see him.<p>

"Do you seriously have nothing better to do?" Malfoy asked, trying his best to look peeved.

"Nope."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long," Harry lied.

Malfoy hesitated and Harry noticed he looked brighter today somehow. The grey circles around his eyes were lifted and his face had lost the wary shadow that Harry had just accepted to be the norm. Malfoy rocked back on his heel as he considered.

"Where did you want to go?" Malfoy said eventually. "The Leaky Cauldron?"

"My place, actually," Harry answered. "I changed my mind."

Malfoy looked like he was going to protest and Harry added, "I want to show you something."

"I'm not staying long," Malfoy warned.

Harry grinned at the subtle "_Yes_."

.

"I can't believe you live here alone," Malfoy murmured over his cup of tea. His fingers tapped the sides of his cup, mouth pursed in thought. The falling dusk glazed Malfoy's face amber and it was stranger still for Harry to see Malfoy in his kitchen at all, turning down milk but not sugar. Kreacher was creeping about like he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"You live alone in your Manor," Harry pointed out, taking a sip of his tea and nearly scalding his tongue.

"Not alone. I have Mother." Malfoy frowned as he cradled the cup in his hands, warming them though it was humid outside. "It is nice to have different company for a change though, I suppose. When I was a child, I only had Crabbe and Goyle." His voice faltered on Crabbe's name for only a split second but Harry heard it anyway.

"It's hard to imagine them as playmates," Harry said._ Instead of bodyguards_, he meant.

"We would play hide and seek and the two oafs would hide behind a flagpole, as if I couldn't see their fat arses."

Harry smiled and had a ridiculous image of a very tiny, very angry, very pointy Malfoy berating the two larger boys as they held each other in fear. He couldn't imagine it any other way.

Malfoy grinned and went on, "Once, Goyle's got into his sisters' closet and came out in these short-"

"Ugh, stop! Stop!" Harry held a hand up, caught between horror and laughter. "Ugh, thanks Malfoy, I'm going to have nightmares for weeks," Harry moaned.

Malfoy looked amused and a soft smile played on his lips. The grey of his eyes had flecks of sun in it and Harry thought it made them look softer, somehow. Harry thought he liked Malfoy like this, open like this.

"Do you miss him?" Harry asked softly.

"Who, Crabbe?"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Even after-"

"Yes," Malfoy said again, more forcefully this time. "He was one of my oldest friends. You can't just forget about them when they've gone."

Harry remembered Malfoy calling out for Crabbe, even after the flames had eaten everything away in the Room of Requirement and the doors had long shut behind them. He also remembered Crabbe telling Malfoy, just moments before, that he and his father were finished as far as he was concerned. Harry didn't mention it. Though he did think that Malfoy had a strange idea of loyalty.

"You have horrible ideas for conversation starters," Malfoy said, grimly.

Harry smiled wrly.

The sound of children playing in the street drifted in through the open windows along with the smell of London, pungent like dusty metal and hot sewer. The sun finished flowing over the horizon and the last drips of orange were runny between the clouds like an egg's yolk. Harry always missed this time of the day to the television and take out. This was something new.

Someone was playing the radio and the mellow song filtered in like a lazy summer. It reminded him of the mornings Aunt Petunia left the radio on in the kitchen when she, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon left for Sunday breakfast and the whole house was Harry's. Alone used to mean freedom. As soon as the door shut, Harry would dance to the music and yell at the top of his lungs from the top of the stairs. Setting his tea down, Harry looked outside to see if he could tell which house the music was coming from, squinting in the fading light. He couldn't. He turned back to Malfoy.

"I didn't really have friends when I was a child," Harry said.

"Doesn't surprise me one bit," Malfoy returned lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm surprised you have friends now."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It was hard to make friends when you lived in a cupboard." He was certain most of the Wizarding world was well acquainted with his past by now.

"You've certainly upgraded since then. A grim, mouldy place with batshit portraits of the elderly and a charmingly bizarre decor," Malfoy gestured to a strange gargoyle that hung upside down from the ceiling that Harry had never noticed before, "I'd say you're moving up in the world, Potter."

Harry gave a wary smile. "I still get lonely, though." He was still alone, but it didn't feel a thing like freedom. He suddenly felt very out of place. This isn't where he thought he would be, if he had ever given thought to where he'd end up when he was a boy. Briefly, he had considered giving Malfoy a tour before realizing he was only really familiar with the living room and the bedroom.

"You could find a girlfriend to occupy your time," Malfoy suggested, pointedly.

"I'm not looking for a girlfriend," Harry said firmly.

Malfoy paused, lips parted as if he was going to say something but changed his mind. Harry's eyes fell on them. They were still chapped and looked honeyed in the light. Malfoy licked his lips and Harry's eyes shot up, startled. Malfoy was looking at him curiously. It felt extremely hot in the kitchen, but Harry had just heated the kettle after all. His cheeks burned with it. Harry's head felt light and he sat up straight to shift the weight.

"Is dinner with Weasley that unbearable?" Malfoy said finally, breaking the silence.

"You have no idea," Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit.

"I told you from the start you shouldn't be friends with him."

Harry laughed despite himself. "You were a horrible child."

"I was not!" Malfoy said crossly. "You were just as bad as me, anyway. Always breaking the rules and getting away with it, too."

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully. "I was supposed to be Slytherin, you know."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at that. "Really?"

"I kept thinking _not Slytherin, not Slytherin_. And then I got sorted into Gryffindor, instead."

"Well, that's a tragedy. We might have been friends," Malfoy sniffed.

"I think I liked you better as an enemy anyway," Harry said, grinning.

Malfoy smirked and Harry's grin widened.

"Come on, it's upstairs," he said.

.

The dust in the Black attic drifted and caught in the light that filtered in through cracks in the roof. Doxies bounced in the air and around the two men huddled like little boys around a wooden trunk. Harry swatted one away with a careless hand.

"I put it away after Sirius died," Harry explained, opening the lid with a creak.

"Put what away?" Malfoy asked, holding the collar of his robe up to his nose as more dust rose form the trunk. He squinted at the cloth Harry had unearthed from the darkness. The lone window was coated with dust and the glass was ribbed so that the only thing Harry could make out was a crinkled, paper moon.

"_Lumos_!" Malfoy said, muffled, and his wand expelled a bright light that startled Harry and the doxies, too.

"You're using it!" Harry noticed, glancing at Malfoy's old wand in his hand.

"I am. What's in there?"

Harry unfolded the green velvet cloth and blew on the contents. Dust flew up into their faces and the curdled smell of mould and dampness filled his nostrils. Malfoy drew back but held his wand up to illuminate Harry's hands.

"It's a two-way mirror," Harry said. "Well, parts of it."

Malfoy stepped closer with his wand and Harry saw his eyes rake over one whole mirror and broken shards of a second one.

"One's shattered," Malfoy said.

"Yeah, I broke it when I was mad once." Harry was assaulted again by the memory of Sirius falling through the veil. Followed by the rage and hurt he felt when he smashed it. He shook his head but the searing heat that was crawling up his neck didn't dissipate.

"Seven years of bad luck, Potter."

"Try twenty four years of bad luck with occasional dumb luck," Harry said bitterly. He felt the guilt knotting deep and keen in his gut.

"Oh, shut _up_. Are you listening to yourself?" Malfoy said incredulously.

"My life isn't exactly a fairy tale, Malfoy!" Harry snapped angrily, surprising both him and Malfoy, who opened his mouth and then closed it. When he opened it again, his lip was curling back.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was talking to Harry Potter for a moment. He's a hero, perhaps you've heard of him? Fame, fortune, and a heart of gold. The stuffs dreams are made of," Malfoy's voice was dripping in sarcasm.

Harry felt himself getting hot with anger, claustrophobic in this stuffy attic, and wanted to smash the mirrors all over again. Malfoy could still do it to him, even now. Get under his skin, piss him off before he even opened his mouth and doubly so once he did. "Shut up, Malfoy! You don't know what you're talking about. Everyone I cared about died on me. It was my fault, and I have to live with it."

"Last I recall, Weasley and Granger are doing just fine."

"I'm not talking about them!"

"What more do you need?" Malfoy was bristling. His eyes were sharp and clear and turbulent.

"You have family," Harry said sharply. Part of him felt bad for thinking his best friends weren't enough. The other part didn't care.

"Yes, a broken one. Most people don't want anything to do with a Malfoy these days. Speaking of living with guilt."

"I-" Harry fell quiet. The wandlight leaked weakly through the green weave between Harry's fingers and scattered in pinpricks of light onto Harry's robes.

"A family isn't some magical cure to what's wrong with your life. Merlin, you're so simple minded!" Malfoy fists were clenched.

"It's not just that!" Harry scowled. "So many people died for me."

"And lot of people didn't. You saved them. Unless you've forgotten already."

"You don't know what it was like," Harry said flatly.

"What what was like?" Malfoy demanded.

"What would have happened if I had lost the battle."

Malfoy sneered. "You didn't, now did you? I don't know if you've noticed, but the war is over. Gods, Potter, you need to move on. "

"_I hope you move on, too." _Ginny said.

Malfoy looked at the mirrors in Harry's hand again, "If you're done indulging your stupid, misguided guilt complex, I would like to know what this is."

Harry was breathing heavily. They stood in silence in the thick air. The sky was dark and Malfoy looked pale in the moonlight. The rain-stained wood of the walls around them creaked in the wind. The planks were worn and groaned under the sagging roof, but Harry barely heard it. Even with the starlight dripping through the cracks in the rafters and Malfoy's wand shining bright, it was hard to see anything but Malfoy's face.

"They were my godfather's and my father's mirrors," Harry said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded to himself when he could still feel his pulse pounding in his ears and his blood rushing in his veins. The sneer had vanished from Malfoy's face and was replaced with a frown. He was looking at Harry like he didn't understand.

"Your father's?" he repeated.

"Yes," Harry continued, "He and Sirius would use it to communicate with each other. You look into it and you can see the person on the other side. I just thought maybe-er-that I'd give one side to you and we could, you know, talk. Instead of owling. Or going round the Ministry."

"You're getting lazy, you mean," Malfoy corrected him. Malfoy's brow furrowed and his eyes were still trained on the mirrors in Harry's hands. "I don't think I should have this," he said slowly. "It obviously means a lot to you."

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't want you to have it." Harry heard the inflection in his own voice and Malfoy hesitated.

"I won't use it, you know," Malfoy said.

"That's fine."

"They may not even work, if one's broken."

"They work," Harry said, knowing he summoned Dobby's rescue with it. _Here lies a free elf._

Somehow, the coils of burning guilt in his stomach didn't tighten any further. Harry let out a shaking breath.

"I'll take the shards; you can have the whole one. If that's alright," Malfoy was looking at Harry from under his fringe.

Harry nodded.

Malfoy reached for the largest shard and before Harry could warn him that he had cut himself twice before on the same piece, Malfoy cursed and drew back his hand.

Harry instantly had his wand out. He took Malfoy's hand in his and healed it, just like he healed him before, wand in hand. He saw the slice of red flesh close up like a flower's bloom in reverse and held Malfoy's hand in his, his fingers pressing into the healed palm, curling into it.

When he looked up, Malfoy was staring at him. Harry felt a shudder go down his body. The smell of soap on Malfoy's skin and the sweetness that came up from his robes mixed with the faint copper of blood. The shadow of Malfoy's head draped black over his neck and into the hollow where his collarbones met and that was more comfortable for Harry to look at than Malfoy's eyes. Harry watched Malfoy's throat swallow as a lump built in his own. Malfoy's wrist went still in his hands.

"You need to stop," Malfoy said.

"Stop what?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"This."

"What?"

"I don't know what you're trying to do." Malfoy's voice was almost a whine.

"I'm not trying to do anything!" Harry exclaimed.

"I don't-" Malfoy started, then shook his head. "You can keep your mirror. I don't know what you want from me."

Harry's hands closed around Malfoy's. "Wait-"

"Potter," Malfoy warned, but his voice wavered in the dark, like ripples of water in the moonlight.

Harry thought about all the things in his life he did because it was the right thing to do. Because he had to, because he was expected to, because everyone knew he would.

Not one of those things made him feel like this.

He tugged Malfoy to him and pressed his lips to his.

Malfoy's mouth went slack and the clenching in Harry's gut tightened with worry. The feeling was sharp and it sat heavy like a fist in his stomach. The inside of Harry's nostrils burned as he breathed and the dusty air felt sharp in his lungs. Malfoy's wrist was thin in his hands and he held it tight.

Slowly, Malfoy opened his mouth under his. Harry groaned, both relieved and aroused, as Malfoy's tongue slid into his mouth, soft and hesitant. It was nothing like the times before. Harry let Malfoy kiss him and Malfoy did, tongue moving slow and steady against his. Malfoy's mouth was hot and wet and Harry lost himself in the feeling. His body hummed, lips to limbs.

"Potter," Malfoy murmured against Harry's open mouth. He dipped his head low as he spoke and his sharp nose bumped Harry's chin. He leaned against Harry, hips pressed close. Harry's chin rested on the bridge of Malfoy's nose and he put his hands on Malfoy's waist.

_I want this,_ Harry thought.

Malfoy's hands traveled down. They roamed over Harry's shoulders and his chest, fingers blazing fire on his skin, burning him to his core even through the wool robes. The robes were discarded soon after. Malfoy's mouth joined his fingers and kissed Harry in places that hadn't been kissed since Ginny and some places nobody had. Malfoy's hair caught in Harry's mouth as he kissed Harry's jaw and lower still. Harry touched the hair with his tongue and nearly swallowed it whole when he felt the heat of Malfoy's breath at his chest.

"Fuck," Harry shivered.

Harry lifted his hands to Malfoy's face, his jaw sharp and solid in his palms. He crushed their mouths together in a deep kiss, and Malfoy was doing anything but struggling to keep up. His mouth moved under Harry's, his hands pulling Harry lower, closer. Harry's tongue stroked Malfoy's, hugged the roof of his mouth, every ridge. Malfoy shifted his hips so that Harry could feel his cock, hard and pressed up to his.

Harry cursed under his breath and his hands fell to Malfoy's shoulders, pulling at his robes with impatient hands. The cloth fell to the ground, sliding off the slight angles of Malfoy's shoulders. Harry saw a long scar on his pale chest, new and pink. Malfoy caught his eye but didn't say anything. So Harry didn't either.

Harry touched him instead, running his hands along his sides. Malfoy closed his eyes and Harry dragged his lips over Malfoy. Malfoy's skin was hot and smooth and Harry's mouth became numb with the feeling of him under his lips. Harry dropped to his knees and half kissed half brushed his mouth down Malfoy's stomach, to where light hairs trailed into his pants (and Harry knew curled around his cock).

Malfoy moaned softly when Harry removed his mouth, like he had been holding it in this whole time.

"I've never-" Harry started, and bit his lip, hoping Malfoy couldn't see how red he knew he must be. He looked up at Malfoy and saw that he was flushed too, a beam of light between the rafters showed him this.

Malfoy's hands were heavy on Harry's shoulders. The hard angle of his jaw and the soft part of his lips made Harry's cock twitch and suddenly it didn't matter anymore. Not now, not when Malfoy clung to him like he was the only thing in the room keeping him grounded.

Harry took the head of Malfoy's cock in his mouth and Malfoy hissed and backed into the wall. Harry was sure the wood was biting into him, maybe splintering into his skin, but Malfoy's hands were on his head now, urging him so Harry sucked.

Malfoy was bitter and Harry cringed and swallowed around the taste. He could only take part of Malfoy in his mouth stroking the rest of it with his hand. Harry moved hesitantly, trying not to choke on Malfoy's cock as he rocked back and forth on his knees. He was grateful that Malfoy wasn't thrusting though he must have been close, the way he was moaning louder than Harry's heart was beating.

Harry tucked his hand into his own pants to stroke himself. He thought about Malfoy's cock in his mouth and the look on Malfoy's face.

"Potter, stop. Potter!"

Harry opened his eyes to a panting Malfoy, one hand on the wall to brace himself. Harry let off and Malfoy sunk to the ground next to him on a pile of their discarded robes.

"Potter, fuck me."

Harry's mouth ran dry at the thought of Malfoy letting him. His cock throbbed under his stilled hand. "I-I want to but -"

Malfoy took Harry's hand in his and brought it to his lips, swollen and full. Harry watched as Malfoy pushed two fingers inside and he felt the hot wetness of Malfoy's mouth and the sharpness of his teeth as he coated his fingers.

Harry's hand dropped between Malfoy's legs.

Harry swallowed and moved his fingers to Malfoy's arse. Malfoy let out a small, pained gasp as soon as Harry pushed one in. Harry felt guilty for how hard the sound made him. Malfoy was hot and tight around him and Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself still. He waited for Malfoy's chest to slow before Harry pushed in another.

Malfoy gritted his teeth and Harry felt him tighten like a silk knot tied around his fingers- _remember this_. Harry put a hand on Malfoy's hip to steady him, kissing his stomach, kissing the top of his curling toes.

Malfoy's cock had softened and Harry doubled his efforts with his free hand until it was hard again and leaking against his belly. Malfoy was panting now, quick breaths, as Harry fucked him with his fingers. His legs wrapped around Harry's waist and the sharp points of his heel dug into Harry. Harry was sweating and Malfoy was too, he could feel the dampness in Malfoy's touch when he pushed on Harry's chest and on his arms as he moaned.

Harry was slow but the sounds Malfoy was making and the searing heat of being _inside _him made Harry dizzy and soon he was pounding harder than he meant to, kissing him while he did so that Malfoy's knees threatened to knock against his own head. Malfoy's thighs shook with each thrust and he cried out when Harry brushed that angle he tried to maintain every time after that.

He took Malfoy's cock in his other hand and stroked until Malfoy came, noiselessly, his back arching off the floor. Malfoy convulsed around his fingers and Harry groaned, hastily shoving his hand into his own trousers. Harry's cock was already slick even without Malfoy's come on his fingers and he began to stroke himself again. The ache between his legs grew unbearable; he was so hot and still more heat was crawling up his belly.

Harry's hand was moving so fast he barely noticed Malfoy until he was beside him, pushing his hands away. Harry opened his mouth to protest but swallowed it when Malfoy's lips wrapped around his cock instead.

"God," Harry said, sucking up his breath as Malfoy bobbed up and down. He scrambled back on his hands, the floor hard and cool under his heated skin. Malfoy's mouth was red and wet and his lashes were almost invisible against his face. Harry tried to watch but Malfoy sunk lower on his cock and Harry shut his eyes tight with a hiss of pleasure. His head tilted back on his shoulders as he groaned into the still air. Malfoy worked his tongue as he sucked and Harry felt his whole body tense up as the warmth spread upwards. He was so so close.

Harry's breath hitched and as the heat pooled in his stomach.

* * *

><p>AN Please read and review.


	4. With Care

Harry's breath hitched and as the heat pooled in his stomach. "I'm-"

Malfoy immediately drew away but Harry was already coming and when he opened his eyes he was met with an angry Malfoy with a good amount of it in his hair.

"Are you kidding me, Potter."

Malfoy's cheeks were pink with fury and he shoved Harry to the ground under him, knocking him breathless.

Harry pulled him down and kissed him, hard.

They broke the kiss much later. Malfoy closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Harry's, his breath warm on Harry's lips, his body warm in Harry's arms.

.

As Malfoy dressed to leave, Harry's eyes lingered on the new scar on his chest.

"Where is that from?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Malfoy traced the ones beside it, the lines so light Harry could barely see. "Not from you," he said, and Harry swallowed around his guilt_. _"My aunt."

It wasn't what Harry meant. It's not what Harry meant at all, but he found himself reeling at the answer. "Bellatrix? Why?"

Malfoy looked at him wearily. "Potter, leave it."

"I don't want to."

Malfoy buttoned his shirt stiffly in answer. The warmth was gone now.

Harry touched his shoulder and Malfoy shrugged his hand off, roughly. "You can't stop, can you Potter?"

"Why can't you just-"

"Because I couldn't _Crucio_ them. I couldn't get it right, I couldn't get any of it right."  
>The way he said it left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth.<p>

"I didn't know," Harry said. He didn't know anything about Malfoy during the War, but was beginning to.

Malfoy's face was lined with thinly veiled contempt. "I wouldn't expect you to care."

Harry stilled. "Malfoy, I -"

"Stop."

And this time Harry did. He just stood there in the darkness and watched Malfoy cover his body, cover his past.

He thought of Malfoy's marked body- the ink, the scars. He wondered which ones were placed there by somebody he thought he would keep him safe. Harry thought of his own scars- most of which had faded by now. He touched a hand to his forehead- a scar from when love did save him.

"Do you want to stay?" Harry asked.

"I can't, I have to be in at work early tomorrow," Malfoy said curtly. "I have a meeting."

It was only after Malfoy Floo'd home that Harry realized tomorrow was Saturday.

* * *

><p>The Ministry was eerily empty on the weekend. The lights were dimmed and each movement seemed to echo and his breath catch in the air. A few goblins were trolling about, but hardly paid Harry any mind.<p>

Ron's voice was ringing in his head._ Getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry?_

He resolutely ignored it.

Harry thought his footsteps sounded obscenely loud but remembered he was probably the only one there to hear them. He put on a muffling charm just in case. The lights were off in Malfoy's office so he slipped into the Department of Mysteries, under his Invisibility Cloak. It was empty in the Entrance Chamber.

Harry waited in the center of the room, breathing ragged in the silence and wondering how absurd it was that he was obsessing over Draco Malfoy again under his cloak, trailing after him, just like in his schoolboy days. He couldn't tell which room Malfoy had gone into-the doors rotated as soon as he entered one. So Harry stood still, waiting for what seemed like ages for Malfoy to reemerge.

The air was hot and thick under the cloak but Harry stood still with his muscles aching and the sound of his own breathing in his ear. His skin crawled in anticipation that became a fainter and fainter buzz until he wondered if perhaps there was another exit.

Finally, the doors rotated again and one in the center opened with a shrill creak.

Harry watched as Malfoy stumbled out. His mouth and nose were bleeding heavily and he dug into his robes furiously for a handkerchief. Harry inhaled sharply and felt his his throat tighten against itself. Harry held his breath as Malfoy hurried out, limping, into the hall and towards the loo.

He counted to 100 and then left too.

* * *

><p>Harry sat at his office Monday morning, with his head in his hands.<p>

Papers flew in and he let them. A heavy folder of Auror Evaluations sat on his desk, with red ink bleeding through the pages. Ron was freaking out over his write-ups but Harry hadn't even opened his yet.

"This isnt fair," Ron whinged, pacing back and forth as he read. "I'm hardly ever late. Harry!"

"Yeah, Ron."

_It's just Malfoy's job_. Harry told himself. _He said he worked a lot of overtime._ _And he said injury was an occupational hazard, hadn't he?_

But another part of him still didn't quite believe it. _What kind of job-_

It seemed almost masochistic, that Malfoy was hurting himself somehow, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling. Malfoy had enough scars as it was. _What is he doing inside there?_

He ignored another protest from Ron about forgetting the new coverpage for incident reports and shut the door.

"Draco Malfoy," he said into his mirror, which he kept propped on his desk beside pictures of Ron and Hermione and his parents. An image of Malfoy's office began to form, the stark grey of it filling the mirror. Harry felt a small tug of satisfaction at his chest; Malfoy did bring it with him to work after all.

The paleness of Malfoy's face blurred into the field of vision before snapping into sudden clarity, sharp brows and harsh mouth open, startled. As soon as Malfoy realized, his face settled into a thin expression.

"Potter."

"About Friday-" Harry started.

"It's fine."

"Okay."

Malfoy shifted in his seat. The clock on Harry's desk was ticking unusually loudly and he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and then winced at how harsh it sounded in the silence. "Er. Long day at work?" he asked.

"Much too long," Malfoy said, resting his mouth on the back of his hand. The blinds were drawn most of the way, the yellow glow that made it through brandishing the metal desk and cabinets. The light glinted off the corners like winking stars, reflecting off the mirror and the rims of Harry's glasses. Malfoy seemed to notice and shifted the angle of the mirror so Harry could stop squinting. His desk was empty as usual save for the huge textbook Harry had seen him reading last time. He cocked his head to read the binding. _B.P. Appearo._

"Did you ever finish your novel?"

"Oh, it's a page turner," Malfoy mused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "And yes, actually, I did finish it."

"I should have you read through my Auror evaluations for me at the rate you go," Harry said, putting a hand on the folder at his desk.

Malfoy smirked. "You actually read those? I wouldn't bother, yours are probably a consensus on the fact that you don't zip your fly and that you're a bit slow on the uptake."

Harry looked down to his pants and let out a noise of frustration upon realizing he had been too slow to get the joke. Malfoy muffled his laughter into his hand.

"You're hopeless, Potter."

"You're the worst," Harry returned, his cheeks still tingling faintly. But he was glad they fell back into this, this easiness between them_._"You don't read your evals?"

Malfoy shrugged a shoulder lightly. "I don't plan on working here long. I don't need to see it on paper, I know I'm the best they've had."

"Humblest, too," Harry added and Malfoy smiled. Harry could feel the warmth of it, even through the mirror, and his limbs ached with the memory of the warmth of him too, pressed tight against him. Malfoy's fingers brushed his lips briefly as he set his hand down.

"Do you want to take a break with me for a bit? Just a coffee," Harry asked.

"I think I spend too much time with you as it is," Malfoy said.

"I think you spend too much time at _work_," Harry pointed out.

"Are you still obsessed with me?" Malfoy asked with mock innocence.

Harry rolled his eyes. "How old are you, twelve?"

"I don't believe I've called you Potty yet."

Harry laughed, the noise filling his chest, filling the emptiness he had felt this morning so starkly that he could hardly believe he felt it at all.

Malfoy pushed back from his desk. "I can't, I'm busy right now-"

"What do you do all day?" Harry asked, interrupting. Curiosity wiped the grin from his face.

Malfoy gave him a strange look. "I'm an Unspeakable, I thought we'd gone over this. Potter, you really are slow."

"No, I mean, what sort of things?"

"Department of Mystery _things_."

"I mean, what do you actually do all day?" Harry looked at him earnestly. He could already feel Malfoy retreating at the sudden interrogation, could see the beginning of a frown touching his forehead, the way his mouth twisted before he began to speak, so Harry spoke first, "I'm just worried about you. It's like you can't ever get away, not even for one night."

Malfoy looked at him flatly.

_This was a stupid idea._Harry shook his head, "Sorry. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I-er-I guess I just wish you had stayed. I know you're busy, I'll let you go."

Malfoy's lips pressed thin for a moment, just long enough, before speaking again. "I test things out. Thought experiments."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. _Wards and transport _he remembered Ron saying. _Training at Azkaban, and the Ministry._

Malfoy took it as confusion. "It's complicated," he said. "The mechanics of it."

Harry was wondering what kind of _thought _experiments could damage a _body _like that.

"Is it dangerous?" Harry pushed.

"It can be." Malfoy's voice was artificially level. "Why?"

"I want you safe."

Malfoy's face broke into disbelief, then laughter, not bothering to hide it this time. Harry frowned. He wasn't trying to be funny.

"I think I can handle myself," Malfoy said. "Though I'm touched."

"Yeah, in the head," Harry said crossly.

"Don't you have reports to be doing, Potter? A world that needs saving?"

"I hate writing reports. And I'm on break, anyway."

"You can buy me a coffee," Malfoy said lightly, "Or suck me off in your attic some other time, but I really am busy right now."

Harry flushed heavily at the memory. Then, biting his lip, "I can suck you off in your _office _some other time," under his breath.

Malfoy's eyes flickered with interest and the heat in it sparked down Harry's spine and pooled between his legs.

"Perhaps some other time," Malfoy agreed. "See you, Potter."

The scene dissolved off the plane of the mirror and Harry had to open a window.

* * *

><p>Harry's evaluations had been phenomenal and he was promoted to Head Auror, much to his surprise and to the surprise of no one else.<p>

At noon he was thrown a mini-party in the lunch room, with flat pop and lumpy pound cake.

Harry shook hands and kept looking over shoulders at the door.

It was silly, of course he didn't come.

* * *

><p>"Some other time" was two hours later.<p>

Harry had just returned with a carton of takeaway.

"Potter." Malfoy was in the mirror, already undoing his tie. "Your clothes, take them off."

"What-" Harry said, blindsided and in disbelief.

"Now."

"Oh, God," Harry almost moaned. He rose from his chair quickly.

"Sit down," Malfoy said, sharply.

"What, here? Through the glass?"

"10 points for Gryffindor."

Harry barely had time to adjust the mirror.

.  
>Harry's fingers stuttered over his buttons of his shirt, the fabric of his chair scratchy against his bare skin.<p>

He looked at Malfoy who was leaning back in his seat, legs spread open, heels resting on top of his desk. His hair spiked on end where he was pushed up against his chair.

.

Harry stroked himself with studded breath, his eyes on the red of Malfoy's lips and the flat of his chest.

Malfoy's arm was moving so fast his thigh slipped off the table.

A second hand joined Malfoy's first under his desk and Harry came, spilling over his fingers and onto the floor.

He caught his breath while watching Malfoy finish. His eyes shut tight as he touched himself, mouth open and panting, and Harry wanted to cover that mouth with his own. Malfoy's breath hitched as he came, the heat of his body leaving transient fogs of moisture on the metal of his desk.

Malfoy wiped damp bangs out of his face and he sat up. "Now you can buy me a coffee," he said.

Harry laughed breathlessly, and reached for his trousers. "I will."

* * *

><p>"So why are you quitting?"<p>

"Sorry?" Malfoy looked up over his coffee. His lips were still slightly parted from blowing on the steam that tangled in his lashes and licked through his hair. The steam continued to rise uninhibited, curling about his face and under his jaw. The cafe was nearly empty with only a few patrons left with an open book or a lonely face. It had looked like it was going to rain when they left the Ministry and it was confirmed when the bell at the door jingled to let in a man wielding a sopping black umbrella.

"Earlier. You said you didn't plan on working here long," Harry said, wondering if perhaps he misheard.

Malfoy set his cup down with a clatter. "I didn't mean anything by it. Would _you _want to work at the Ministry for the rest of your life?"

Harry bit his lip in thought. "Forever is a very long time. But I do like my job."

"You would," Malfoy said, almost with disappointment.

Harry didn't quite know how to take that. "What do you mean?"

The rain started to come down hard now, Harry could hear it pounding on the roof and against the windows. He looked outside and saw the grey mist from rain hitting the pavement and the raindrops beaded on the glass like sweat.

"You never could get enough of the attention, could you?" The anger was starting to build in Malfoy's voice, rising slow and smooth. "Of course you like your job. Which bit is your favourite? Sending people to Azkaban?" Malfoy offered caustically.

"_Upholding justice_," Harry corrected, a little too defensively. He had almost forgotten Azkaban was a strained subject with Lucius imprisoned there. He had stopped reading the papers long ago, but this case- he had meant to look this one up. He shuddered thinking of how long Sirius had spent there, though he was innocent, wasting away alongside those who had committed far graver crimes than being a good friend.

"Justice," Malfoy repeated and snorted softly.

"What?" Harry asked, bewildered. "Right and wrong."

"_Blame_." Malfoy looked at him carefully.

Harry shook his head.

"Justice is the transfer of guilt between people," Malfoy said.

Harry frowned, letting the words soak in like water.

"Don't hurt yourself, Potter," Malfoy returned, picking up his drink again though Harry was sure it had gone cold. "I heard you're Head Auror now. You must be thrilled."

Up until that moment, Harry had been.

.

They stood awkwardly outside the coffee shop afterwards, under the awning. It should have been a dry place to stand but the wind blew the curtains of rain like a shower head, soaking into their robes, making it dark. The smell of wet cement rose from the ground like rolled cigarettes.

Harry held a brown bag of pumpkin pasties he had bought for Ron and tucked it closer to his chest. "I don't do it for the attention, you know."

"Oh?" Malfoy asked, staring up into the sky.

"My job."

"I suppose you do it because it makes you feel like you feel good inside," Malfoy said dryly, his eyes now on Harry's face.

"Something like that."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Do you scamper up trees to rescue the stranded kittens of blind orphans as well?"

"I did pull a Pygmy Puff from a fireplace once," Harry admitted.

"My hero," Malfoy said. But the wry smile barely overshadowed the disappointment.

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon and the thick weariness of other Ministry personnel washed over Harry when they re-entered the building. Harry walked Malfoy back to his office, his nose still cold from being outside.<p>

"No way, Malfoy. A helicopter? On a day like this?" Harry said incredulously.

"I was trying to fly over the storm. I remember it like yesterday," Malfoy insisted.

Their shoes left little water trails behind them down the hallway and Harry had given up on drying spells, content to just be, for now.

"How many propellers did it have, then?"

"Pro- _what_?" Malfoy asked, scowling.

"Flapping- you know" Harry made a whirling gesture with his fingers.

"I don't remember."

"'Like it was yesterday.'" Harry repeated, and Malfoy gave him a withering look.

"Shut up, Potter. Details."

"You do fly well," Harry conceded, giving Malfoy a sideways glance before grinning, "But not that well."

"Better than you," Malfoy retorted, meeting Harry's eyes and raising an eyebrow in challenge. His hair had dried mostly, dark at the roots and curling.

"Not a chance," Harry grinned, thinking of Hogwarts days on the Quidditch field, both of them diving for the same snitch. At times, he still felt like he was chasing something golden and bright, always just out of reach. As a boy, it used to be the sure-ity of _goodness_. Voldemort and the knowledge of what he had to do sat like a heavy weight in his mind, a dusty diamond, urging him forward with no time to look back. But now...he wasn't sure what he was rushing towards anymore or what he had missed in the chase.

"Believe it or not, it happened," Malfoy said, lips twisting smugly.

Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Right, and the Minister dances ballet."

Malfoy's laugh echoed all the way down the empty hall.

Harry paused. "Are you the only person that works on this floor?" he asked, finding the corridor barren as he had every time.

"Nearly." Malfoy didn't slow his step.

"How you can make it all day without seeing anyone else is beyond me," Harry said, hurrying again to catch up to him.

"I'm shocked you didn't bring Weasley on our little date, _you _two are attached at the hip."

Harry smiled though Malfoy didn't seem to notice.

"You should use the mirror more often," Harry said softly.

"Perhaps." Malfoy unlocked his door and turned around.

"I mean it," Harry said, taking a step towards him, crowding him into the doorway. The grey in Malfoy's eyes crystallized as he took Harry in. Malfoy's hands came up for a moment before falling back to his sides.

"Alright," Malfoy said simply and it was the first time Harry had ever caught him with something less than brassy to say, so much so that Harry forgot what he was going to say.

"Oh. That's. That's great."

The way Malfoy was looking at him now was so sharp and _charged _that Harry could feel it coursing through his own body, hot on his skin as if it were a touch. His mind was a nest of static and when one of them pressed closer, his mind went completely blank.

Malfoy's breathing was the only movement between them and it pushed their chests together in even beat. Their clothes were wet still and pressed into Harry's skin, damp and cold.

The rain water gathered like silver pellets around Malfoy's jaw and Harry smoothed them with his fingertips as they melted into each other. The paper bag in his other hand crinkled while they kissed.

* * *

><p>The mirror chats became easier after that.<p>

The days flew by for Harry, filling the time in between cases with conversations with Malfoy. There was a Muggle woman on Thursday who accidentally found herself in the Ministry after dialing MAGIC by pure coincidence in the telephone booth outside. Her upper lip, slathered in lipstick, quivered like grape jelly before Harry _Obliviated _her. Malfoy told him about the first time he ever encountered a Muggle. He had been so sure they would be more troll than human. Harry told him he had thought wizards all wore pointy hats and that witches had green skin. Malfoy was mortally offended.

On Friday, there was a complaint about a smell coming from the basement of a house in near Diagon Alley. Harry had spelled down the door to find a dead Witch who had hung herself and left no note behind. He told Malfoy about what it felt like to die. Malfoy was very interested to know if it hurt and Harry told him it hurt more to leave the ones you love behind. Malfoy seemed unconvinced.

There was a bad batch of wolfsbane potion making its way around the backstreets of London and Harry spent most of the next week following leads. He made the mistake of asking Malfoy about wolfsbane ingredients and he talked about potions so fervently that Harry was convinced he could have given Snape a run for his money. When asked why he went into wards and transport instead, he fell silent. Harry felt bad for bringing it up.

By the week after, Harry finally had a tip from a wolfsbane dealer who had been screwed in a short shipment. He and Ron broke into the small lab and found the guy-barely more than a teenager brewing in his bathtub- and were both relieved and disappointed that it had been so easy.

It didn't make the papers, but it was something.

Though Harry had been more excited to see Malfoy in the mirror afterwards.

* * *

><p>"Ron told me you've been dating someone," Hermione said, spreading jam over her bread.<p>

Harry swallowed his toast half-chewed and it went down rough. "Did he?" _Damn it, could Ron hear him in the mirror all this time?_

"A girl named Lisa?"

Harry felt the relief wash over him, mixing with his laughter. "Oh, no. No, I don't even know Lisa."

Harry needed to clear his head and he couldn't think of any better person to air out his thoughts to besides Hermione. He had suggested they meet for breakfast (without Ron) and Hermione seemed to cotton on as to why the second she embraced him.

"Who is it, then?" she asked patiently. She looked at him with bright eyes, already smiling a little. She had been there for him before Ginny. She had been there for him after Ginny. He never told her how grateful he was but he supposed she already knew.

Harry put the toast back on his plate. "The thing is, we're not seeing each other. I mean, we _see _each other but- only in the mirror and it's-they're not proper dates, anyway..."

She looked puzzled for a moment but nodded for him to continue anyway, bushy curls coming loose about her face though she had pushed them back a moment before.

It was loud in the restaurant with the clacking of plates and chatter of voices. Somehow it felt better to be telling her here instead of with his head in a fireplace. "I don't know." He rested his head on his hand, tapping at his silverware with the other. "I don't know if he's interested, not really anyway. I mean, I'm not sure what he wants," He looked up to watch for any change in expression from Hermione at the pronoun use. There was none. God, he loved her.

"Why don't you just ask him?" She said, frowning.

"It's not that easy!"

"Oh, honestly! It is that easy, Harry," she chided, her cheeks becoming ruddy with incredulity. "Do you have feelings for him?"

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "I think I do."

"And you can't tell if he feels the same way?" she pressed.

Harry felt exasperated, searching for the right words. "I don't know, I'm afraid he's just-"

"Do you think he's using you?"

The clamor in the restaurant seemed to dim and Harry's mouth opened in surprise. "What? No, I don't- what could he possibly be using me for?"

She put a hand on her hip. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. If there is no other reason to spend time with you I should think his actions speak for themselves."

Harry brightened at that. "Maybe you're right, Hermione." Harry pressed his fingers into the tablecloth, the weave of the fabric under his skin tethering him (though barely) from thinking about what that meant.

Hermione still looked contemplative, like in school, recalling the Latin root of a charm with a finger pressed to her lips. "Does he make you happy?" she asked finally, warm eyes moving between his in earnest.

Harry paused even though he already knew the answer. "Yeah, he does." He let out a deep breath, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Then he frowned and amended his statement. "Though I think he irritates me more."

Hermione smiled at him fondly. "I think you should go for it."

He let out a nervous laugh. "You think so?"

She put her hand on his arm. "Harry, you just told me he makes you happy. You deserve to be happy all the time."

* * *

><p>"Harry, come quick!" Ron shouted, appearing in the doorway. "Malfoy's fighting someone!"<p>

Harry snapped up from his desk. "What? Who's he fighting with?"

"Who knows, loads of people hate him. It's brilliant, Malfoy did it without a wand!"

The two rushed down the hall.

Harry recognized his voice before he saw him. It was the same Auror who had jeered at Malfoy the first day outside his office. As he rounded the corner, he saw the man on the floor, curled up in pain, glaring up at Malfoy with disgust, "... filth like you. I know what's going to happen to your father. And I'll laugh when it-"

Malfoy backhanded him. "Shut up!" His face was scrunched around the eyes and his mouth an ugly shape. He was heaving as he stood, his chest rising and falling like a wounded bird's.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, breaking into a run. Ron was at his heels.

"Bet you'd like to kill me, wouldn't you?" The man crowed, "It's been a while, hasn't it? Murderer. How you sleep at night, how you _dare _show your face here like a decent-"

"Fuck you!" Malfoy shouted at him, spit flicking from his mouth around the words. Harry's heart was pounding as fast as his feet were pounding on the tile. His mind was blank but his chest was tight. As Harry neared, he saw Malfoy was stepping on the Auror's wandhand, the wand had rolled off against the wall.

"Should have your mother Kissed, too-"

Malfoy hit the man again, this time drawing blood.

"Malfoy, stop!" Harry pulled Malfoy back by the arm. Harry had never seen him so angry, his whole face was contorted in rage. His face was angles and open space, brow drawn, nostrils flared, and teeth bared. Harry felt himself shudder.

"Potter, let _go_," he hissed.

The man took the opportunity to spit in Malfoy's face and Harry shouted "_Immobulus!_" with a pointed wand before Malfoy could react.

"Harry!" Ron sounded scandalized as if he had struck the wrong man.

The Auror froze on the spot.

"Ron, can you give us a minute?" Harry asked, breathless.

Ron frowned as he looked curiously between Harry and Malfoy but nodded. He turned and went back the way they had come. His footsteps retreated slowly, the sound of trainers slapping against the floor getting weaker and weaker until Harry couldn't hear them anymore.

"Can you stop being a hero for five bloody minutes, Potter?" Malfoy said in a quiet voice. He was still shaking, his voice shook. There was a glistening streak on the sleeve of his robe where he had wiped the spit from his cheek.

"You were hurting him," Harry said numbly. "Why didn't you just use your wand?"

"He deserved it."

"He's not worth it!"

"I never killed anyone!" Malfoy shouted, his eyes narrowed in on Harry as if he couldn't believe Harry could ever think it. Harry swallowed hard because he knew there was a moment in time when he thought Malfoy could, would.

"I know you didn't!" Harry said.

"Yeah, _you _know. They don't. They all-" Malfoy was short of breath and ran his hand through his hair. It was rumpled like his robes.

Harry bit his lip. They all-what, hated him, blamed him?_ I wouldn't expect you to care, _Malfoy had said_._Harry felt a lump building in his throat, heavy. He hadn't even given thought to what being a Malfoy must mean these days. He hadn't cared enough at the time to find out.

"My father-"

"You're not your father!" Harry cried, his voice breaking.

"I never said I was!"

"Then stop acting like it. His guilt isn't yours!"

Malfoy's face went sour. "I did things too, I tortured people."

"They _made_ you. _She _made you. That hardly-"

"But I still did it!" Malfoy looked disgusted with himself, a fragility in the grey of his eyes that was raw and damaged. "You wouldn't have, would you, Potter? Always the noble route, how utterly Gryffindor. That's the difference between you and me! I'll never be like you. You were never meant to be Slytherin! You never could be."

Harry swallowed. "Look Malfoy, I know you're scared-"

"Are you calling me a coward, Potter?" Malfoy snarled, backing off.

"No, I'm not. Malfoy, I-" Harry took a step forward.

Malfoy looked away.

"Malfoy, you've been through a lot. And you must have had a lot of courage to come this far. They're wrong, about you, I-" Harry shook his head, "You're a good person, I _know _you are."

Malfoy let out a shallow breath. "I _told _you I didn't need you to forgive me."

"I'm not forgiving you, I'm telling you that you're better than this. You always have been, you just didn't know it yet."

Harry's mouth was open still. There was more, but the words wouldn't form, he was fumbling for them. His heart ached and his throat was closing around these words that he still couldn't muster.

Malfoy was still looking away.

Harry licked his lips and put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. It slipped down his arm a little. He looked at Malfoy and saw the little boy he had met eleven years ago who had extended his hand for friendship.

He took Malfoy's hand in his.

Malfoy leaned forward and put his head on Harry's chest.

* * *

><p>AN Please review!


	5. Transfer

A/N Last installment. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

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><p>When Harry left to go home, he locked up his office at the same time as the Auror he had <em>Immobilized<em> two hours prior. Geoffrey Jangles, Ron had told him.

Their eyes locked across the hall.

He glared at Harry as he stalked towards him. "You're Head Auror, Potter," he said.

Harry looked at him grimly.

"Don't forget that."

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><p>That night, Harry couldn't sleep.<p>

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><p>He went to work exhausted and looked balefully at his empty coffee cup.<p>

Ron leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "So I've narrowed the anniversary down to two days. It's either this Sunday or the next."

"Did you already decide what you're going to get her?" Harry asked.

Ron laughed. "No, I'm still thinking maybe-Oh. Hi." He straightened up suddenly.

"Weasley."

Harry sat up at the voice and Malfoy appeared in the doorway.

"Potter," he said flatly.

"I'll be back, over, there, you know, in the..." Ron excused himself.

"Hi," Harry said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. He heard the sound of Ron's office door clicking shut for the first time in years. Harry was thankful for the privacy.

"I wanted to thank you for yesterday," Malfoy started, stiffly. "I wasn't -" He licked his lips and paused. A wan smile twisted on his lips. "Actually, I was worried I would be fired when I came in this morning, to be honest."

"You wouldn't be, I saw what happened," Harry said.

"I know. No one's said a word. I wanted to thank you anyway."

"You're welcome."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Alright." Malfoy turned to go.

"Malfoy, wait," he said, putting a hand out though Malfoy was nowhere in reach. "There's something I've been meaning to say..."

"What?" he asked, stopping near the door. His collar was loose and Harry could see his pale neck dipping low into dark robes. His pulse beat steadily and Harry's was beating tenfold faster.

"I...Er..." Harry back tracked. He hadn't actually planned on telling Malfoy any time soon and now- (_Good job, Harry_ he groaned internally). _I like you very much, would you like to date me?_ _I know we've had our differences in the past, enemies and all, but I think we'd be brilliant together? _Harry's palms prickled uncomfortably and his throat went dry. It was ridiculous. It was just like 4th year, tongue-tied and flustered over talking to Cho. It was just like 6th year, holding Ginny in his arms and not knowing what to say, the sound of Gryffindor quidditch victory roaring all around them. His heartbeat was pounding loud in his ears now, thinking about the things he wanted to say to Malfoy but probably shouldn't. He swallowed hard and tried again, "I-"

Malfoy was frowning at him slightly in confusion, a shallow crease forming there between his bangs. He leaned against the doorjam, sharp shoulders digging into it as he waited for Harry to finish.

The back of Harry's neck heated and he put a hand there to rub at it anxiously. "Er."

He looked at Malfoy's face, the way his chin lifted just enough so that the line of his nose and the curve of his lips tilted up softly. Harry liked his sharp features that seemed to soften around him and his arrogance that didn't seem like arrogance any more. Harry liked his harsh mouth that could be gentle too, sometimes, just like this. He liked...he liked a lot of things.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow and what little resolve Harry had left in an instant.

"Nevermind," Harry mumbled, flushing to the tips of his ears and feeling the heat in his face.

Malfoy smiled. "I'll see you, Potter."

He left the room and Harry smashed a hand to his face. It was just like... how it always went. "I'll always be rubbish at this," he said to nobody in particular.

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><p>The alarms were shrill in Harry's ear and sounded off the walls of his office, nearly knocking him off his seat with the intensity of the first wave. They rang in every room and he could hear people milling around the hallway. He stood up and walked outside.<p>

Ron was already there looking as confused as Harry felt.

"What is this, a safety drill?" Harry asked him, plugging his ears over the alarms blaring in every direction.

"I don't know, but it's really annoying!" Ron said back, wincing over the sound.

Shacklebolt and Dawlish were storming down the hall, robes flapping behind them, and Harry took this opportunity to ask.

"We have a minor ward malfunction," Dawlish explained irritably, his robes whipping around his legs from the abrupt halt. "Nothing wrong. It's okay, we've got Malfoy on it."

"Bet Malfoy _caused_ it," Jangles muttered from the wall. Harry whipped around forcefully.

He snapped at him before Dawlish could respond. "Will you shut it about Malfoy already? He's brilliant at his job which is more than I can say for _you_."

Jangles' scowl turned into a smirk as his eyes focused behind Harry.

Dawlish put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Good on you for standing up for him, Potter. You can write up the ward report then, thanks for volunteering."

Harry's mouth spluttered open and Ron shot him a "sorry, mate" look.

.

Harry waited for the alarms to shut off before using his mirror to contact Malfoy for details. Maybe he could spit it out now that he had had some time to practice what he wanted to say in his head. He took a deep breath.

Malfoy's office came into focus in his glass, swirling a darker grey than normal. He wasn't in the room. Harry exhaled in equal relief and disappointment. The lights were off and he had to squint to see. The office was empty but his desk actually had paperwork spread across it for once. Harry grinned. The giant text book lay open, abandoned. _Malfoy must've left in a rush to fix that ward_, he thought. Harry's eyes paused on a familiar folder and his heart caught in his throat. He saw his green tab for the Muggle incident and his sloppy handwriting across the front. Fergilius Fern.

Dread filled Harry's gut like a tide and clenched down, pinning him to his seat. His head was swimming. _What was Malfoy_-

He heard the sound of the door knob turning and quickly put his mirror down. The scene slipped off the smooth surface and then it was only reflecting the head lights from Harry's ceiling.

He sat there for a few moments, blankly processing nothing. He quickly checked the Ministry archives again for the name. Fergilius Fern was back in the system. Except he couldn't read anything in the profile beyond the Ministry tags. British citizenship. 54 years old. Enlisted in the Wizard Protection Program. File: Classified information. Unspeakable Access Only.

He ran a hand through his hair and down his face. _What_-

A thick stack of papers that flew into his inbox startled him. He pulled it out to read the note attached.

_Was told you got stuck with the report. Since you hate writing these..._

-Draco

It was the full report on the ward malfunction, completely filled out.

Harry's stomach churned before sinking like a stone, heavy with unease.

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><p>"Relationship trouble?" Hermione asked, opening the door for Harry. He had been pounding at it relentlessly. His heart beat quickly but his mind was racing ahead of it.<p>

"Hermione, I need to ask you something important-" he said, pushing his way into her and Ron's home.

"Okay," she said, wrapping her bathrobe about her tightly against the wind. She shut the door behind him.

"Is Ron home?" he asked.

"He's out with Seamus. Harry, what's wrong?"

"What do you know about the author B.P. Appearo?"

Her eyes brightened and Harry was glad she recognized the name. "He writes textbooks on transport," she said.

"Wards and transport?"

"Yes." Hermione clasped her hands together. "Have you read them?"

"No," Harry answered coldly. "I haven't. Explain it to me. Please."

"Oh, you should read them for yourself if you have the time. He's famous for his dimensional theories. He writes about transporting matter, you know, like- like food, a train. Or even a person. It's supposed to be extremely hard to do, and I doubt anyone actually can, but there are spells and diagrams."

She paused to see if Harry was following. He nodded.

She drew in a deep breath and went on, "It's not the same as apparition, not really- because you can apparate someone with you or take something with you only if you are holding on to them physically. Transport is different, there is no contact, and takes much more magic. It drains a Wizard so that they can't perform even the simplest spells. Or worse, if you move more matter than you have magic for, it causes damage to the body. It's not like splinching, because you're not quite leaving something behind, but it's more internal and Harry, am I going too fast? Have I lost you?"

Harry's mind was flickering between the last things she said. _Can't perform the simplest spells. _Malfoy couldn't heal the bruises on his face, or test out his old wand that day Harry gave it back. He couldn't even _Alohamora_ the door to Harry's house let alone apparate home that night. It's not that he didn't use his wand to fight that Auror, he _couldn't_.

_Damage to the body_ was clear enough already. Harry thought about the scar on his chest, the limping and the blood. The damage was getting progressively worse. _What was Malfoy trying so hard to transport? _

"Harry?"

So his job was dangerous, Malfoy had told him that himself. But that didn't explain the Wizard in Protective Services. Why he had gone missing from the system, and why he was back now. Perhaps this was a part of Malfoy's job too, but plucking identities from Ministry archives hardly seemed normal protocol, even for an Unspeakable and-could Malfoy be practicing transporting people? Transporting Fergilius Fern? No, that made no sense. Hermione even said she didn't think it was possible, why would the Ministry send Malfoy on a wild goose chase?

"Harry!"

He snapped back to her. "Sorry, Hermione, I was just thinking."

"That's alright. Did that help much?"

"Yes, thank you." Harry stood up.

"By the way, Harry, erm..." Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you think you could figure out from Ron what date our anniversary is? I keep feeling like it's coming up and I can't remember the date at all. Please don't tell him I said so."

Harry laughed so hard Hermione asked him twice if he was mental.

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><p>When Harry Floo'd in to work in the morning, there was a huge hubbub in the office. Everyone was excitedly talking about a sentence at Azkaban but Harry barely heard a word anyone said to him. He was still thinking about Malfoy. He needed to talk to him.<p>

"Harry!" Ron shouted from a group of junior Aurors crowded in the hall.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, shifting by them to get through.

"Um," Ron said, looking up tentatively. "I know you're sort of friends with Malfoy, now, so do you think he's going to come in to work today?"

"Yeah, probably, why?"

Ron showed him the front cover of the paper. "Lucius is being Kissed today. They've had it scheduled for ages. Did you know? I always just skip to the comics-"

"Oh my God."

"Harry?"

Harry bolted to the lift.

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><p>Malfoy's fucking office was empty again and locked. Harry pried at the doorknob, both hands on the handle and a foot to the doorjam. He froze suddenly and almost on a gut feeling, turned to head towards the bathroom at the end of the hall where he heard soft voices.<p>

Harry rushed in with his wand out before him. He was trembling in anger and fear and his heart wrenched wretchedly in his chest. Everything was confirmed in an ugly instant.

An old and greying Lucius Malfoy was standing next to his son who was bleeding profusely from his nose, his mouth, his throat- Harry couldn't tell- it was all pooling together and seeping angry and red into his robes.

Lucius looked to his son, his flaring nostrils the only sign of panic on his face.

"This is Fergilius Fern," Draco croaked out, gesturing to his father. "He's in the Wizard Protection Program."

"Malfoy," Harry warned, pointing his wand like an accusing finger. He briefly wondered why the wards weren't going off until he remembered Malfoy had been the last one to touch them.

"Lower your wand, Potter," Malfoy ordered. An air bubble slipped to the side of his mouth in the oozing blood. His legs were shaking. "Potter, lower your wand!"

Harry didn't. He thought about Malfoy kissing him that morning when Harry asked too many questions. He thought about Malfoy coming on to him in the mirror after becoming Head Auror.

_Do you think hes using you? _Hermione had asked.

Malfoy shoved his own wand into his father's hand. "GO!" he shouted.

Lucius hesitated for a moment before accepting it and bolting out the door. Harry let him and heard Lucius cast a disillusionment charm behind him.

Malfoy's face was tense but his eyes were clear as he looked at Harry. He was still breathing heavily, ragged and loud, his chest heaving violently under stained robes. Harry's wand hand dropped to his side. Malfoy closed his eyes and slid down into a sitting position on the floor. His fingers left red smears on the ground where they dragged. Harry was trying to speak but his chest was too tight and his throat was closed around a lump of hurt that ached and burned. His lungs and limbs were on fire. The smell of blood was metallic and sticky and Harry hated the taste in of his mouth. He hated everything. Malfoy opened his eyes again and winced with the effort. His lips were parted and blood caked the corners of his unapologetic mouth.

"_You're Head Auror, Potter. Don't forget that." _

Harry raised his wand again, determined.

"Harry!" Malfoy's voice was strained.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" Harry flicked his wrist and a blinding white stag burst from the tip of his wand. He kneeled beside Malfoy, taking his hand in his and bringing it to his chest. "I've just sent for help, just hold on. What will we tell them when they come?"

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><p>AN I hope the overall theme of guilt transfer was transparent.

Please review.

-Edit- 8/16 Do you guys really want another chapter/sequel? :/


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